Divine of War
by Razbunatorul
Summary: Alduin has returned and dragged in his wake a newcomer to Skyrim. Kratos, years after the events of God of War, finds himself in a tumultuous Skyrim, plagued by dragons and civil war.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** In the first few chapters there are some long paragraphs. I've been told that makes it more difficult to read. This is something that I changed very quickly, but rather than go back and re-edit the first few chapters I am focusing on pushing the story forward. So even if the paragraph lengths bother you a little, I'd press on. The story is worth reading and you won't have to worry about long paragraphs for too long.

* * *

The headsman's axe whistled down and with a meaty thump came to rest in the wooden block. Ralof of Riverwood clenched his teeth and looked on impassively as the headless body of his former comrade slipped off the block and fell with a boneless thud in the dust. He watched the blood jet from the severed arteries as the corpse's heart pumped a few last times not realizing it was already dead. _No._ thought Ralof as he cast his eyes up at the sky in despair or perhaps denial. _This is not how this ends! This is not how Jarl Ulfrich or our cause dies._ He looked back down at the body and the now dark, damp earth. _Not how I end. _The imperials continued to bustle along and two soldiers bent and hooked the corpse under the arms and dragged it off to the side.

"Keep it moving!" called the legate "Next prisoner." Ralof stumbled forward as the guard behind gave him a swift shove between the shoulder blades. Ralof recovered his balance and strode toward the block with as much dignity as a bound prisoner could muster, determined to meet his end with the same courage as his compatriot. To his ears his footsteps seemed to almost echo in the dusty courtyard of Helgen's fort as he neared the bloodstained block.

_Funny,_ Ralof thought to himself, as everything seemed to slow, _this is the longest and shortest walk of my life._ His breath misted the chill alpine and he laid his cheek on the rough, scored surface of the bloodstained block, smelling the clean mountain pine under the over powering metallic tang of blood. With his cheek now damp with blood and pressed against the headman's block ignoring the immediate future was now impossible. Ralof's hands clenched involuntarily and strained against the leather thongs that bound them behind his back, his breath began to come more quickly as the immediacy and seeming inevitability of death's cold embrace stuck him. _Talos, give me strength and shepherd me home to Sovngarde._ The executioner took up his axe and stepped back towards the block. Both the executioner and Ralof were jerked from their respective thoughts as something happened. It was almost as if there were an enormous and terrifying sound that would have deafened everyone in Helgen if it weren't pitched too low to be audible to the ear. But it could be felt. It was a sudden push and a pulse that shook the bones in Ralof's flesh and rattled the teeth in his skull; an immense and crushing pressure that made it impossible to draw breath. And then the moment passed almost as if it had never occurred at all. Ralof took a shuddering breath and raised his head from the block, a fresh new thread of fear working in his heart, to see the executioner and all the other imperials and prisoners looking at each other in bewilderment. The legate looked about her seeing the breathless and rattled soldiers "Ca – Carry on. Carry on!" she called with a stammer, gingerly trying to regain her own breath and ignoring the awful pressure in her skull. "We haven't got a—" She was cut off abruptly as a terrible roar split the air, one that immediately made her a child again, turned her guts to ice and stopped her cold with the visceral and instinctive fear it provoked.

The wicked rush of wind drew every eye up to the tower to see an ancient terror make itself known. The black dragon landed, shattering the crenellations of the tower and sending out shards of broken stone and plumes of dust. For a heartbeat all were frozen by the terrible beauty perched above them, the artistry of the midnight scales, the terror of its rending claws and twisted horns, but most of all by the unfathomable rage in its blazing reptilian eyes. The dragon's second roar was accompanied by flame and death

Everything devolved into a frenzied haze of fire and ash.

Ralof cursed as he ran through the madness that Helgen had become, he could not believe that he had let himself become separated from his stormcloak companions. Fires blazed out of control everywhere and the crackle of the flames was interspersed with the cries of the burned and dying and roars of the dragon. His breath came in ragged gasps and the hot smoke seared his lungs as he ran for the keep. He knew that of all the buildings in the settlement the keep was the only one that had any chance of withstanding the dragon's fury.

_Dragons!_ thought Ralof, hearing the beast's roar from the other side of Helgen _They are supposed to gone! Myths! _He shook his head angrily. _Caught in a border ambush by imperials only to be eaten by a legendary monster. Gerdur was right for all her teasing. I AM unlucky._ Ralof rounded the final bend and vaulted some rubble from an out building that had been pulverized earlier by the great beast, and there before him was Helgen's keep and the cleared ground around it. He paused a moment and searched the skies, blinking rapidly as the air swirled with ash almost as if he stood in a snowstorm. Not seeing the dragon nearby he sprinted for the sturdy double doors of the keep. As he closed with the doors something caught his eye. Off to the right of the doors lay a large man face down. He was not obviously burned, blackened, or torn to bloody ruins like the other victims of the dragon Ralof had passed on his way to the keep. He focused again on the keep door, maintaining his rush. He skidded to a halt at the door, seized the handle and paused a moment. "Divines curse it!" Ralof spat as he turned to the other man. He wasn't going to leave someone to be food for that thing, especially not when they are only feet away from safety that is not what a true son of Skyrim does. Ralof grabbed an arm and tried to pull him up "Come on, man! On your feet!" He struggled a brief second seeing the man was still firmly unconscious. Ralof unceremoniously shoved the man over on his back and hooked his hands under his arms dragging him back to the keep. "Why", Ralof panted as he shuffled those 20 feet to the door as quickly as he could, "did you… have to be… so damn big?" Ralof turned briefly and opened the keep door, sighing with relief that it was unbarred. He pushed the door open the rest of the way with his back and dragged the stranger inside. Once they had cleared the entrance, Ralof roughly dropped him and ran back to the door, peering out. He saw nothing but fire and cinders. The dragon let loose another earth shaking roar and Ralof slammed the door. Looking about, his eyes lit upon a heavy cross bar. He rushed over, hefted it up and paused setting it down again. _This won't do a bloody thing against that monster. All I'll do is doom some other poor bastard that manages to make it this far._ Decision made he sank into a nearby chair and looked around the sparsely furnished circular room he found himself in. _I've heard the keep has an escape tunnel if I can work my way further in and down, then maybe… _He saw the only path further into the keep was behind a heavy metal grating. Immediately, he crossed the room and tried the latch on the gate set in the grating. Locked. "Shit." He muttered under his breath, turning to lean back against the grate. He heard a noise and saw the man he had pulled inside stir. _Divines!_ Thought Ralof as the man rose slowly to his feet, _He is a big bastard isn't he!_ The man rose to a crouch and then stood slowly. His skin was pale with an ashen tone and a deep red tattoo wound around his body like a ribbon extending across his torso, down his left arm, and up over the back of his hairless head before coming down past his left eye and terminating in a point. He rose to his full 6 foot 8 inch height, towering over Ralof, who was not a small man. His torso was mostly bare but for a boiled leather pauldron with its harness and the broad fur-lined leather girdle that wrapped his stomach. Heavy leather vambraces reinforced with steel encased his forearms and all this combined with his full beard and broad powerfully muscled frame gave him a savage aspect and air of brutal power.

Kratos stood a moment, brows drawn together in a deep frown. He did not know where he was. The last thing he remembered… His eyes closed slowly.

* * *

Kratos walked along the branches of Yggdrasil between the realms back towards his home. Kratos paused. Something disturbed the impenetrable silence of the void around him. He heard a strange chant, faint and sourceless. The chant quickly came to a crescendo and as it did Kratos felt a rumble, as that of sound too low to hear but is only felt. The still air of the realm between realms became an abrupt unstoppable gale, and a force began to pull on him as if gravity itself had changed its orientation. Kratos set himself against the wind but could find no purchase. With a low shout he pulled the axe from his back and sank it into the world tree's branch. His hands clamped like iron bands around the haft of the weapon and halted his slide. The pressure grew even greater, pulling with ever increasing force until his feet were pulled from the ground and he hung suspended, kept from the void only by his grip. Kratos grit his teeth and with a growl shifted one hand higher up the haft of his axe. With another grunt he pulled himself back closer to the branch, his feet still stretched out towards the void between worlds. Another titanic effort against this inexplicable force brought him closer again to the branch. He felt the tremor in the haft of his weapon as the blade shifted. His eyes widened. With a roar, Kratos pulled with all his might, throwing his body forward as the axe came loose. His hands reached the branch and scrabbled for a hold seizing the bark. With a tortured snap the bark came free and Kratos was dragged into the void. He turned as he was dragged towards nothingness determined to face it head on. There before him like a tear in the fabric of reality was a void deeper than the emptiness of the realm between realms. _If this is my doom, so be it. But I will not go quietly. Goodbye, Atreus._ He roared his defiance into the void and was pulled into nothing. Then pain. It was if he was destroyed and remade, a fresh new agony, then the vague sense of falling.

* * *

Kratos opened his eyes on the circular keep of Helgen. He noted and ignored the other man in the room, turning towards the door. "I wouldn't go out there, brother. I didn't drag you in here just to have you go back out and get eaten by that monster." Kratos paused looking over his shoulder at the other man. "The only things out there are fire, a burning fort, a dragon and death. I'm Ralof. I'm from this area. There's an escape tunnel from the keep, through this door." He said gesturing at the door behind the metal grating. Kratos glanced down and realized that he was entirely unarmed. With a brief sigh he turned back towards Ralof.

"Very well. Take me to these tunnels." Kratos rumbled with a glower, his voice low and gravelly, as he stepped towards Ralof.

"I would, brother, but the gate is locked." He said gesturing towards it. He swallowed nervously at the sheer sense of menace coming off the man. Ralof walked towards a set of shelves along one wall turning slightly trying to keep him in his peripheral vision, "There may be a key in here somewhere we can search fo–" He was cut off by a crash. Ralof spun in time to see Kratos step forward to the now bent and warped gate and plant a second kick on the locking mechanism. The gate crashed open, slamming into the opposite wall, twisted and with its lock shattered. Ralof's jaw dropped.

Kratos turned back to him, "The gate is open, soldier. Take me to these tunnels." Ralof approached slowly, clearly wary of him. Kratos let out an impatient snort and stepped through the gate ahead of Ralof who continued to eye him carefully.

"Who are you?" Ralof asked slowly "And how did you do that"

"My name is unimportant. And I kicked it." Kratos replied in his bass rumble. "Now move." Ralof hesitated at the ruined gate then his eyes widened and he pointed down the corridor.

"Look!" he cried "Imperials!" Kratos spun, falling immediately into a warrior's stance.

Three imperials had rounded the corner and when they saw Kratos and Ralof, the officer drew her sword, pointing it at them and shouted "Stormcloak fugitives! Kill them!" Ralof was still wearing his armor and uniform but had no weapon. He fell back into the room frantically searching for a weapon. Ralof looked back to check on his pursuers and was shocked to see the stranger he had rescued step forward to meet the charging imperial soldiers. The leading soldier attacked with a cry, bringing a bearded axe to bear on Kratos, aiming for where his neck and shoulders met. Kratos shifted left with a quick bob causing the weapon to pass harmlessly by as he snapped a kick in the soldier's midsection forcing him to double over as the wind was knocked out of him. Kratos instantly rose to his full height, arms high above his head, anger across his face and with a snarl brought his linked hands crashing down on the imperial's back. Ralof's jaw dropped when he heard the crunch, like someone stepping on so many dried twigs, and watched the man slam into ground, blood issuing from his slack mouth. Kratos stepped over the body and swiftly sidestepped a thrust from the second imperial. Moving left, his right hand darted up to catch the imperials sword hand and his other came around in a brutal left hook that connected with such force that it tore the helmet from the soldier's head. Kratos ducked back under the stunned imperial's arm, inside his reach, batted his shield out of the way and seized the imperial by the collar of his cuirass and his belt. Kratos heaved the man up above his head and with a roar threw him headfirst into the ground. The noise of the impact reverberated through the corridor and the soldier lay like a ragdoll, his body unnaturally contorted. Ralof and the imperial officer locked eyes for a moment both stunned and gaping at seeing the two soldiers so demolished in the space of mere moments. The moment was broken as the unstoppable force of Kratos' flying knee smashed into her, crumpling her breastplate like so much paper and sending her flying back to slam against the wall.

"Fools." Murmured Kratos "They rushed blindly to attack. Reckless. Without cause." He stepped back from the last of the crumpled bodies of the imperials and turned to Ralof "It is time we leave this place. Lead me to the tunnel. I do not wish to stay here." Ralof walked over to the fallen soldiers and gingerly picked up a sword and a wooden iron bound shield. He was no stranger to death… but this… It seemed to him to be more execution than battle. The imperials had stood no chance against this man. He picked up the axe as well and extended it towards Kratos.

"Aye, it's time we go." he said as Kratos took the axe from him. The weapon looked almost dainty in his hands as he examined it and then slipped it through a loop on his belt. "But what do I call you, friend?" Silence stretched as Kratos eyed him for a moment before letting out a small grunt and replying,

"Very well. You may call me Kratos." He turned and looked down the stairs at the end of the corridor that the imperials came from.

"Kratos, eh? Can't say I've heard that name before. By your look and stature I would have thought you a nord, but that's not a name I've heard in Skyrim." Ralof pulled a torch from a nearby wall sconce and began to lead the way down the stairs. "What hold do you hail from?"

Kratos considered the unfamiliar terms for a few moments. Nord. Skyrim. _I was pulled from Yggdrasil, which touches all realms. I could have landed anywhere in the 9 realms_ he mused to himself. "No hold." He replied shortly, following Ralof deeper into the fort. "Which realm is this? Midgard?"

"Realm? We are in Skyrim. A province of the Empire though, Talos willing, hopefully not for much longer. I have never heard of this Midgard. Is it in the southwest? Perhaps beyond Elsweyr?"

"No. This reality. This plane of existence. What do you call it?"

"Do… Do you mean Nirn? We're on Nirn. There's nowhere else except for oblivion and the realm of the gods." Ralof eyed Kratos as they descended further into earth. Kratos brows had drawn down over the course of their exchange. "Are you to tell me that you're not from Nirn? Which from what I just saw makes as much sense as it doesn't. By the Nine! Dragons and a man from beyond the realm in one day! At the same time even. What are the odds?"

Kratos stopped and looked intently at Ralof, "The dragon appeared as well." Ralof nodded his head.

"Apparently you both appeared out of thin air so to speak."

Kratos let out a low rumble and continued to walk, pondering his new situation, _Dragons appear and I am pulled from my realm. This goes too far for coincidence. The origin of these beasts may be some clue or key to how I came to be here. And how I will return home._ He dragged his thoughts back to the present. The boy would be fine. He was strong and had learned much on their great journey and in the times after. Kratos took a deep breath. _Focus on the task at hand. Where these dragons came from and how they did so. That will return me to my son. _Kratos and Ralof continued down the stairs coming to a short hallway with several closed doors. Ralof examined the signage and then indicated the far left door. "From what I know it should be through here, the oldest part of the keep, the dungeons." At Kratos' gesture he opened the door and continued on. After another brief descent they entered a larger room with holding cells, a large fireplace and a large scarred table covered with various unsavory implements. Two imperials had been watching the entrance Kratos and Ralof used. One was simply another soldier but the robe and heavy stained leather apron of the other spoke to a different vocation. Seeing the stormcloak blue of Ralof's uniform the soldier's brows drew down and started forward drawing his weapon, but halted when a booming voice cut across the room.

"Cease, fool! Your keep burns and your allies are dead. You would seek more foes?" The imperial's grip on his weapon shifted uncertainly on his weapon and he licked his lips nervously. "If you would die, then come and have done. I have no more time to waste." Kratos strode forward like inevitability personified and Ralof followed, shocked and drawn almost helplessly in his wake. The soldier stepped aside, hands drooping to his sides. The jailer looked at the other imperial in shock as he allowed the stormcloak and stranger to pass. At the exit on the far side of the room, Kratos paused, seeing a nearby weapon rack. He reached out and picked up a simple two-handed axe with one heavy blade, almost more executioner's tool than weapon. He hefted it experimentally, grunting in satisfaction at the weight before turning back to the door. Kratos paused, hearing an unfamiliar crackle and felt what could be described as a tingling sensation on the back of his neck. The sound intensified and he spun back to the imperials to see Ralof step between them, a spear of ice slamming into and shattering against his upraised shield. Ralof, more familiar with Nirn's magicka, had recognized the sound and reacted immediately. Kratos, immediately connecting the jailer's posture and expression to the spell, stepped out from behind Ralof's shield and with a shout threw his newly acquired axe. Ralof would never have believed it if he had not seen it, though the same could be said for the majority of his day. The axe was punishingly heavy and not weighted for throwing but it shot across the room quick as an arrow, completed one perfect rotation and slammed into the jaw and upper chest of the jailer. Kratos stalked forward his face a thundercloud, full of menace, as the soldier scrambled out of his path, sheathing his blade and holding up his empty hands. Kratos spat at the corpse's feet and wrenched the gory blade from the body. He walked back to Ralof, looked at him a moment and gave him a tiny nod of approval and continued on his way. Ralof exchanged a final glance with the imperial and hurried after Kratos.

They wandered through several more old corridors before they found their way out into natural tunnels. They encountered dead ends and some of the enormous spiders to which Skyrim is home. Kratos found the dead ends far more frustrating than dealing with the inconvenient arachnids. Eventually they were able to find the exit and came squinting out into the sun. Ralof was exhausted. He had been captured the night before and then escaped execution and the destruction of Helgen in the early morning hours. He could see the greasy black smoke rising from the ruins higher up the mountain. Some instinct warned Kratos and he seized Ralof and moved him bodily back into the cover of the cave mouth "Be silent!" he hissed when Ralof opened his mouth to protest. Just then the roar from the skies above them answered the question for him. The waited in silence listening to the beating wings pass high above them and then could see the beast flying away to the east. The enormous black dragon flew on, occasionally letting loose a blood curdling screech. Eventually they could no longer see the monster for the distance and the clouds. They stepped back out of the cave on to the path. Kratos looked down at Ralof as the stormcloak cleared his throat.

"I would never have made it out of there if it wasn't for you. I owe you my life." Kratos' only reply was a faint grunt. After another beat he continued, "Where will you go now? What will you do?"

Kratos stopped to consider. _I have no home. No place. No people. No purpose but that I must find a way back. But little clue how to accomplish that._ He did not like these thoughts. They were daunting. He had a world to search and nowhere to start. A world in which he was a complete stranger. Fortunate enough that the Norse tongue and Skyrim's language match sufficiently. This was not his area of expertise. This was not an enemy to be fought or destroyed but a puzzle. With the whole world before him he felt keenly his lack of direction and his lack of knowledge. "I… do not know." He said finally. Ralof gave him a thoughtful look.

"One thing to start with at least. Accompany me to Riverwood. If we hurry we can make it by nightfall. My sister lives there. It is poor repayment but at least we can give you a hot meal and a good bed." He extended his hand to Kratos and said "It would honor me." Kratos eyed his hand for a moment before stepping forward and clasping his forearm in the traditional exchange of warriors.

"Very well. Let us hurry then."

* * *

AN: First chapter is in the books. Hopefully you've enjoyed it. It's the first writing I have done in a very long time. Please leave a review if you liked it or if you have some helpful advice.

PSA - This will not simply be a main quest line retelling.


	2. Chapter 2

Contrary to Ralof's estimate they arrived in Riverwood well after full dark had fallen. The journey had been uneventful in comparison with their morning, but had included a wolf attack, which resulted in Kratos catching the beast mid-leap and beating it to death against the ground.

They crept into the darkened village. There were still a few lights on, but they attempted to be inconspicuous. As inconspicuous as you can be when one of you is an ashen skinned mountain of muscle. Ralof knocked on the door of the mill a few times before they got any answer. An obviously annoyed blonde woman opened the door, spilling golden candlelight out into the night. The annoyance melted off her face in an instant when she saw her brother at the door. "Ralof!" she cried, "Come in! Come in! Get out of the cold and dark." She was a little taken aback when Kratos, after a moment's hesitation and Ralof's beckoning, ducked under the doorframe and entered the room. "…And who is your friend, Ralof?" She asked with a slightly strained voice and nervous glance at her brother.

"Don't worry Gerdur!" he replied, holding up his hands in a soothing gesture. "He's a good man." Kratos hesitated at that. He had… not often heard such things said. "He saved my life. By Talos, he saved my life… at least three times over actually." Gerdur turned back to Kratos, her demeanor thawing, and extended both her hands.

"You have saved my brother then. And you are _most_ welcome in my home." Kratos extended his own hands, mimicking her gesture, unfamiliar with the custom of this land, but seeking to avoid any offense. Gerder clasped his hands, though they dwarfed hers, and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Thank you. He may be a headache sometimes, but I can't thank you enough for keeping him safe."

Kratos paused, unsure of what to say faced with her warmth and sincerity, before rumbling "You are welcome," and nodding gently. Gerdur smiled and released his hands.

"I don't know what you both have been through, but judging by the soot, blood and smell it has been a day. You must be hungry and exhausted. Wash up while I get something quick on the table and then you can rest." She turned to Ralof, "We'll talk in the morning." The meal was simple, the day's bread and some of supper's stew quickly reheated but it was hot, filling, and far better than what Kratos himself was able to prepare. Kratos' feet hung far off of the foot of the pallet they were able to find for him, but it did not trouble him. Whether it was the day's exertions or the strain of being pulled between worlds he slept soundly for a time.

Kratos awoke early, as was his habit. He arose quietly, moving with a grace that, coming from a man of his size, would have surprised most observers. He went outside, breathing deep the chill of the early morning air. Kratos enjoyed the early morning, the first breath of a new day. It had always seemed peaceful to him and trying to internalize the peace he saw in such mornings was one of the tools that he had used to reclaim himself from the rage that used to rule him. Kratos walked away from the house and sat on a tree stump near the river, listening to flowing water and the still air. He sat for a long time internalizing the morning calm, his back straight as iron, hands resting on his knees. His meditations were disturbed eventually by two young boys running from the house down to the river, cavorting as only children do. Kratos smiled faintly, looking at them. The one boy must have seen about 12 winters, Atreus' age when they journeyed to Jotunheim. When Kratos learned what it was to be a father. Kratos heard Gerdur approaching from behind. She walked around him, into his view and chose her own stump to sit on.

"I spoke with Ralof. he told me what happened at Helgen." She paused. "He told me about you. What he knows at least. I am sorry."

Kratos shrugged minutely. "It is nothing," he replied. They sat for a moment watching the children.

"Do you have children of your own?" Gerdur asked.

"A boy."

"I can't imagine that. Pulled away…" she trailed off.

"Yes. It troubles me." Kratos growled. He paused and exhaled slowly. "But he is strong. And near grown. I do not fear for him…" He paused brows knitting.

"But he is still your son. You want to be there even if he can take care of himself now." She finished for him. He let out a small grunt and nodded slowly. "Every parent wants to defend their child." She let out a small disgusted noise and gestured towards the playing children, "But how am I to defend them against dragons? What can I do? What can this town even do?" She sighed and looked down. "It _shames_ me to ask, after all you have done for my brother, for us." Kratos turned his head and focused on her intently. "But I feel I must. Please take word to Whiterun. The Jarl must be told. Jarl Balgruuf is a good man. I'm sure he will send troops to defend us."

Kratos looked back to the laughing children. Atreus had not been able to play like that. Carefree. Yes, they were weak, not like his boy… But to have seen Atreus laugh like that… He would have liked that. He could at least permit these children their carefree lives. It was as good a cause as any. The dragons were his concern in any case. Perhaps this Jarl would know more, or know someone who did. "I will carry word. In which direction is this city?"

Gerdur sighed with relief, gesturing with her hand, "It lies to the north, a journey of a couple days." Kratos nodded and stood, turning northward. "Wait!" she said tentatively. "You don't mean to go _now_, do you?"

Kratos looked down at her and shrugged. "The dragon flies quickly and already has a head start. The more time passes, the more opportunity for tragedy."

Gerdur shook her head slowly and muttered "Talos guard you." Then more brusquely, "Well, even if you must leave now, I refuse to send you away empty handed. Give me a moment and I'll put together some supplies for you." She stood, laying her hand on his arm and said softly, "Thank you. Again. I find myself even more indebted to you." She gave his arm a squeeze and bustled off to the house.

Kratos sat and observed the children at play for a few minutes more before following Gerdur back to the mill. As he approached he heard the bustle of Riverwood, now come to life that the sun had risen. He was glad then that the mill was on the edge of town. So much time spent alone had made him unaccustomed to the noise and press of what seemed to him to be a large number of people. With a shake of his head Kratos turned away from the town and ducked into the house. Gerdur looked up from tying a bedroll to a leather satchel, smiled and finished preparing the bag. "It's not much," she said, passing Kratos the satchel, "but there's a few days trail rations, a camp knife, and a healing draught in there." She looked down blushing slightly, "There are a few septims in there too. Not as many as you deserve, but we don't have much in the way of coin. I also included an old ring, in Whiterun you should be able to sell it." She gestured around the house and told him "If you see anything you think you might need, take it. What we have is yours." Kratos took the bag and looked at her appraisingly for a moment before opening the leather satchel and digging out the silver ring.

"I will not take this." He declared, extending the ring back to her.

"But I—"

"No." Gerdur looked at his stoic face and gently took the ring back from him. Kratos went to the door and paused. Turning back to Gerdur he nodded "I thank you for your hospitality. Be well." He stepped out into the chill morning air and immediately set out northward at an easy, ground covering lope that he could maintain all day. Gerdur watched for a time until he was lost in the trees, then sat at the table turning over the ring in her hands. Ralof chose this moment to emerge, his hair mussed and bleary eyed. He drifted over to the table and sat down with a yawn.

He looked around a moment and stretched, "I slept like the dead. Our guest still asleep?"

She looked up at startled, "No, Ralof, he left for Whiterun. I asked him to carry word to the Jarl and then he wouldn't wait even a moment…"

Ralof sat in silence for a moment before raising his eyebrows, letting out a small snort and musing, "That is a unique man. I won't claim to know him well, but… I don't think that we have heard the last of him. Appearing from nowhere and then just walking off like that? It seems fitting."

Gerdur chuckled softly, "From what you told me about yesterday, I don't think he will be able to help making a name for himself."

* * *

The miles passed quickly as Kratos pounded north towards Whiterun. The day had passed quickly and relatively without incident on the trail. He ate on the run and stopped only to sleep and skin the two wolves foolish enough to take him for an easy meal. Kratos could see Whiterun before him as he came down into the valley, as well as the farmsteads, ranches and small towns that were sprinkled across the plains between.

Kratos was working his way down from the foothills onto the plains themselves when he heard a thunderous, guttural roar coming from further down the winding path. The last of the foothills and trees obscured his view of whatever was causing the ruckus. Kratos stopped momentarily and sighed, rubbing at his brow. This was not his to deal with. With a huff he continued on increasing his pace slightly. He still had business at the end of this road. When the road curved and cleared the last of the obscuring pines the source of the noise was inescapably clear. A giant was stomping around near one of the homesteads. The humanoid was immense, the house only coming up to roughly waist height on the monster. It was male, with very long matted hair and beard, dressed in a fur girdle and carrying a huge club that was, in essence, a log with a stone strapped to the end of it. Kratos could hear in the distance the softer and higher pitched screams of what he assumed were the farmers. If he were here, Kratos knew that Atreus would be staring a hole in the back of his head. He would be right. Though he did not put in these terms precisely, it occurred to him that those homesteaders were really just like Gerdur and her family, trying to make a life in a harsh world. Kratos took off at a sprint closing the distance at a pace that would have shocked any observer, had there been one.

Hana did not know why the giant had attacked. They had seen it in the area over the last few days and her husband, Drennen, had been worried enough to take the horse and ride for Whiterun that morning to secure the Companions' aid. It had come out of the trees while she was tending to the cattle. She had dropped everything and run for the house where her child slept. When the giant smashed the shed, she screamed and the creature turned to look at her. Hana accepted, as the giant came in her direction, that she would likely die, but she could buy little Erik time. She yelled and waved her arms at it and then ran, trying to draw the colossus away from the house. She ran past the huge boulder she and Drennen kept meaning to break up and drag away from the fields and glanced back on to see something she did not expect.

Kratos put on a final burst of speed, ducked his shoulder and with a roar slammed into the giant's right knee from the side. As the giant's knee was at shoulder height it was an easy target and he was rewarded with a popping sound as the giant was driven to one knee, dropping its club in surprise. Kratos pulled his axe from his back and took two terrible, hewing strokes at the upper calf and back of the giants damaged knee, his blade leaving gaping wounds before the giant's backhand slammed into him, bashing him into the earth and sending him skidding 20 feet along the ground. Kratos, however, recovered faster and came howling back, his axe opening two new rents in the already crippled leg. The giant screamed and lashed out again at its tormentor, Kratos dove out of the path of the giant's fist and swinging his axe as he rolled to his feet, gashed its arm. Kratos leapt within the giant's reach and torqued his whole body into a punishing upward blow that ripped a tear in giant's side and sprayed blood across the yard. Continuing his spin Kratos came fully around and used his momentum to fling his axe into the giant's belly. The thing was hunched over now from the pain of wound in its side, its head now only 10 feet up in the air. Kratos dodged another vicious punch and then leapt, snarling into the air, seizing the giant's tangled hair and hauled down with all his might. Kratos dragged the giant's head down, smashing it against a large boulder. The giant groaned, stunned, slowly bringing its hand towards its head. Kratos ran and grabbed the end of the giant's own oversized club and hauled it up into the air before brining it crashing down on the giant's head, caught between the hammer of its own club and the anvil of the boulder below. Kratos approached slowly, retrieved his axe and for surety, hewed open the giant's throat with a few workman like chops, letting loose a torrent of blood as he severed the arteries there. Seeing a nearby trough, Kratos let out a pleased grunt. He walked over, leaned his axe against it and began to wash the blood and viscera from his skin. He could hear pounding feet from the other side of the giant's corpse and then happy cries, a tearful reunion and strained retelling of the morning. He bent, gathered water in cupped hands, scrubbed his face and straightened, exhaling and blowing water from mustache and beard. He washed quickly and when he was clean to his satisfaction, he started back towards the road, hearing the reunion continuing behind him.

"You do good work." Came a throaty female voice from behind him. "The Companions could use someone like you." She paused clearly waiting for some response. Kratos glanced over his shoulder and saw the woman. She was attractive. Full lips and shining grey eyes under blue war paint that crossed her face like the swipe of a claw. She was wearing some form of plate attached to a leather base layer and carried a large bow with easy familiarity, her steps effectively silent. Kratos merely turned back to his path and continued, letting out a low grunt. "You would make an excellent shield-brother. Come find us at Jorrvaskr, in Whiterun." She called after him. Kratos heard another of her companions walk up to her and a low conversation ensue. It was not his concern. He rolled his neck; the giants were stronger than the trolls of Midgard. It had been a fair hit. He increased his pace and set his eyes again for Whiterun.

* * *

Kratos reached the outskirts of the city in the late afternoon, the day after leaving Riverwood. He continued up the road towards the gate passing the stables and horse traders that sat outside of the walls of the town. The road was fairly busy and dusty both of which served to annoy Kratos. The press of humanity was not something that he enjoyed. The flow of people did not appear to be heading into the city proper but rather visiting a bazaar of tents set up by the roadside. Ignoring what seemed to be a traveling market or fair of some kind, he exited the mass of travelers and continued on the main track towards the gate, passing several low defensive walls and ditches.

Kratos paused hearing a scuffle and the obvious sound of a blow connecting and someone falling to the ground. Turning, he saw three young men, wearing what he had learned was the standard garb of the nords, surrounding one man wearing a voluminous, earthen toned, hooded robe. They were out of sight of the fair and crowds, and it was clear that this was by design. Kratos turned away, he had intervened enough in the affairs of others, but stopped. He could almost hear Atreus' voice. There are three of them, father. He needs _help_. A laugh from the group of men sealed his decision. With a tiny sigh he strode forward, his face settling into a stormy grimace. His enormous, purposeful strides took him up to the encircling three before they realized he was upon them. "What has he done?" Kratos grated out. The three men turned to stare at him, startled at his size and sudden appearance. They were men, but barely more than boys.

One managed to reclaim his humor and petty venom "Done?" he scoffed, glancing at his two compatriots, "These damn cats have always _done_ somethi—"

"Enough! You are done. Go."

"You can't just—"

"Now." He rumbled through gritted teeth. His clenched fists made the leather of his vambraces creak, calling the youths' attention to the size of his fists and their own mortality. The young men backed away slowly and then turned and quickly paced off, casting the occasional glance back over their shoulders.

"This one is grateful for you assistance. He had done nothing wrong, yet was set upon by those pups." Kratos turned back to see the robed figure stand and cast back his hood revealing a tawny faced cat with long black ears.

Kratos' brows rose in quiet surprise, "What are you?"

"This one is called J'Kar. He is pleased to make your acquaintance."

Kratos nodded slowly, "Yes. _What_ are you?" J'kar's ear twitched back and then forward in his own surprise.

"This one is a khajiit. You have never seen his kind before?" Kratos grunted and shook his head. "This one is surprised. Khajiit are not common, but we trade throughout Skyrim. This one should get back to the caravan," he said gesturing back towards the trade fair, "but he is very grateful. If you have need of anything, khajiit have wares and will trade fairly, but even better for you, friend." With a hand on his ribs, J'Kar made his way back to the road and turned his steps to the fair. Kratos shook his head before continuing up towards the gate. Truly Skyrim was a strange place.

He slowed his final approach to the gate, seeing it was shut and noting the two guardsmen on watch. The guards immediately took notice as he came down the road towards them. With Kratos still a fair distance off, one guard turned his head and whispered to the other "Eh, Alding! Look at this fellow. He must be 300 pounds of muscle! You can tell him the city is closed, I think."

"Shut up, Gregor."

"I'm just saying that it's your turn."

"Gregor!"

As Kratos neared the sentries, Alding shot his compatriot a dirty look before stepping forward and calling "Halt! The city is closed with the dragons about. Official business only."

"I have come to see your Jarl," Kratos said as he took another step forward. "Riverwood calls for aid."

The guards exchanged a look before one began "I'm sorry, stranger, you don't get to just go talk to…" he trailed off as he saw the huge man's lip curl and heard a low growl.

"No. This is needless delay. Open the gate or I will open the gate." Kratos' hand clenched in frustration.

Without missing a beat, the other guard spoke up, "Sounds like he's a messenger, Alding. I'd let him through." The first guard glared at the other and received a shrug in return.

"Fine. Head to Dragon's Reach. But we'll be keeping an eye on you. Open 'er up!" Kratos waited impatiently for the gate to open, before heading immediately into the city. He strode forward purposefully, but slowed as the noise and clutter of the city washed over him. He didn't hear a singsong voice behind him "Sounds like he's a messenger, Alding! Gregor, you knob. See if I cover your tab at the Mare again!"

Despite the confusing bustle of the city, it was clear to Kratos where the Jarl would be. Dragon's Reach towered over the city and was clearly visible from almost any point in the city. The keep sat above the rest of the city on a spur of rock jutting up from the plains. Taking a deep breath to steel himself against, what seemed to him to be, a great press of humanity, he started through the city towards Dragon's Reach. Despite his feeling of being crowded, his size, barbarous tattoos and forbidding expression effectively cleared a space around him as he navigated through the busy streets of the capital of Whiterun Hold. He noted what was clearly the inn as he passed it. It had been a very long time since he had been to a public house or had any sort of proper drink. Perhaps since he shared the wine of his homeland with Atreus… He shook his head and carried on. Soon enough he was climbing the steps up to the doors of Dragon's Reach where he was, again, stopped by guardsmen, but these by their demeanor were far more experienced than the pair at the gate.

"Hold, stranger. You are clearly not from Whiterun." Called the first holding up a hand. "What is your business in Dragon's Reach?"

"I bring word from Riverwood and Helgen. News of dragons."

"Damn. It's true then. You'd better go in, stranger. The Jarl will certainly want to speak with you." With a nod to him, the two guardsmen pulled open the massive ironbound doors of Dragon's Reach and gestured him inside. Kratos entered immediately into a large great hall with a small set of stairs leading up to the main level of the hall, which was currently occupied by long tables and a massive firepit in the center. At the far end of the hall was a large raised dais on which sat an ornately carved wooden throne, occupied by a large fair-haired man. His destination clear, Kratos made directly for the man who appeared to be in an involved discussion with a finely dressed, balding, older man. His eyes narrowed when he saw a strange, red-eyed and dark skinned woman wearing leather armor mark him and quickly put herself in his path. Kratos' attention shifted to the woman. A svartalf? No. No wings. Perhaps she was the native svartalf equivalent. This land was filled with strange creatures. Kratos' eyes narrowed and he dropped into a slight crouch when the woman drew her sword and continued to approach.

"What is the meaning of this interruption!? Jarl Balgruuf is not to be disturbed." She demanded, eyeing the ashen skinned interloper. Irileth did not like the look of this one. He looked like the kind to only bring trouble.

Kratos bared his teeth and let out a snort of frustration. Three times challenged! "If your Jarl will not see me, then he is a fool." The woman visibly bristled at lack of respect to the Jarl. "I bring word of Helgen and Riverwood. News of dragons." She stared at him for a moment longer before relaxing her stance and sheathing her blade.

"You are correct in that at least, if not in your manner, the Jarl will want to hear what news you bring. Come." She turned and led the way up on to the raised dais. "Wait here." She told him and then approached the Jarl, ignoring the old man currently speaking, and whispered into the Jarl's ear. Balgruuf immediately held up a hand, stopping the other man mid sentence and looked to Kratos.

"You bring word from Helgen? Were you there then?" Balgruuf leaned forward, one hand coming up to his chin.

Kratos gave a small nod "Yes."

"Out with it man! Don't leave us in suspense!" cried the Jarl throwing up a hand "Tell us what happened, tell us of the dragon."

"Helgen burned. Only ash remains. To my knowledge only I and another man survived."

The Jarl sat back "So, Helgen is gone then? Entirely? Damn. What of the beast, did you see it?"

"Yes. As it flew away. It is a terrible beast. Black as night with wings to block the sun. Its fires burn hot." Kratos grimaced slightly, "I… I came to ask aid for the people of Riverwood. They fear the beast will attack."

Jarl Balgruuf stood and began to pace. "Yes, of course! I will not leave my people – _my people!_ – to be food for some creature, I don't care how big the damn thing is!" Kratos lip's twitched upward and he nodded at the Jarl. "Irileth! Task a crew. We send men to Riverwood immediately."

The older man interrupted at this point, "The Jarl of Falkreath will see this as provocation, preparation for war – "

Balgruuf interrupted, his hand slashing through the air, "Enough! We will not sit idly by while a dragon burns our hold and slaughters our people!" he turned back to Kratos, "You have done both me and my hold a great service. You brought me word of a danger to my people of your own accord. That must be rewarded." He looked to the older man, "Proventus, see to it that the man receives a suitable sum of septims. As for you, friend, we must see to Riverwood's defense now, but return in the morning and we must talk more of this dragon problem."

* * *

AN: A big thank you to those of you who have followed or favorited the story, and especially for those who left reviews. It's very encouraging and really does help me with the drive to write consistently rather than sporadically.

Apologies for any errors in editing and thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

After Proventus had given him his small reward Kratos nodded at the Jarl, turned and strode out. Balgruuf sat for a time on his throne before beckoning Irileth over. "I want to know more about this man. Who he is, where he came from, anything you can find. He is not from Whiterun, we would know, as there is no way _not_ to notice him. Ask the Companions and the merchants, perhaps they know something. He is 7 feet tall, pale as ash and covered in red tattoos. Someone will have something to say I am sure." He leaned forward, and stroked at his beard thoughtfully. "You may think me foolish, Irileth—"

"Never, my lord."

"But I have a feeling… I would rather have that man for me than against me. I'd wager he's more than capable. Send Farengar to me as well. Maybe this stranger can help us with that project." Irileth bowed, fist to heart, and hurried off to carry out her Jarl's will. Balgruuf sat, lost in his musing for quite some time. Something told him this was important. These were momentous times in which they were living. It would not be wise to give no heed to a warning spirit from the Divines.

* * *

Kratos entered the Bannered Mare and immediately winced at the bustle of activity inside. He saw on the quieter end of the inn a lone, small, unoccupied table and immediately made for it and sat down. A few moments later a harried seeming serving girl approached him somewhat tentatively. With a slight quaver she began, "Welcome to the Bannered Mare, best inn in all of Whiterun. We have stew and some fresh loaves and much to drink, of course. What can I bring you?"

"Food, please. And wine if you have it." The girl was a bit taken aback, his low quiet tone and stoic demeanor were certainly at odds with his appearance. His honey colored eyes also showed more soul than she would have expected.

She smiled brightly, "Of course! I'll bring that right out." As she bustled off Kratos leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands before his face. He sat lost in thought considering his situation. _I may not need the dragon. If it uses something akin to the travel stone that I used to access the branches of Yggdrasil then I only need its key. There is no way to be sure for now. I need the beast or its method. I still know too little, have too few resources in this place, and inferior weapons._ The barmaid returned, placing a large steaming bowl before him, a half loaf of crusty bread, a bottle and a large pewter tankard. "Here you are, sir. That will be five septims."

Kratos placed the coins in her hand with a nod, "I thank you." He ate quickly. He could go for long periods without eating, how long precisely he wasn't sure, but it was not pleasant. After finishing he uncorked the bottle and wafted it under his nose. He did not think it smelled like the wine of his home, but it had been so long that his memories had dimmed. He poured half the bottle into his tankard and drank. With a small, satisfied sigh he relaxed marginally. He was no drunkard, he did not believe that it was possible for him to be intoxicated, but he did enjoy the taste, the melancholy thoughts of his first home and the memory of sharing a carafe with his son. Soon he was done. At his gesture the barmaid returned. He held up a few more of the coins, "Another bottle, please." She quickly returned with another and he continued his reminiscing. Lost in the past he didn't notice the common room becoming rowdier.

He was snapped out of his reverie when he heard the barmaid snap, "No! Now let _go_ of me!" Only few feet away a man had her by the wrist and was slowly reeling her in despite her tugs. Kratos could see the innkeeper across the loud, crowded room obliviously speaking with some of his guests.

"Now, now, Asta," slurred the man — a laborer by his dress, not that Kratos was any accurate judge — tugging her closer "I _know_ you like me." With a disgusted noise Kratos stood and was there in single step, empty tankard still in hand.

Kratos stared down at the man, "Release her. Now." His voice was flat with menace. The man looked up, with the bravado of the very drunk or very foolish.

"Step off you pasty faced prick! This ain't any of your business." Kratos raised the tankard between them and with sudden violence crushed the heavy pewter tankard in his grip. The man gaped, his eyes popping as Kratos dropped the twisted ruin to the floor with an ominous thud.

His scowl deepened, "I will not ask you again." Both the man and barmaid seemed to have forgotten about the original situation, he looked at his hand on her wrist and dropped it as if it were red hot. Holding his hand out in a placating way he quickly made his escape. Kratos dug some more coins out of his pouch, "For the mug. And a room if I am still welcome." He said holding out the coins. Asta flinched back slightly from his hand and she saw… something… flicker across his face when she did. Kratos nodded slightly and turned to leave.

Asta reached out immediately and caught his arm, "No! Of course, you are welcome to stay. And moreover you have my thanks. Would you like me to show you to your room?" Kratos glanced around the room and saw many of the patrons suddenly very engrossed in their mead.

Kratos let out a tiny sigh, "I think that would be best."

The rising sun found him sitting on the steps to Dragon's Reach and enjoying the morning stillness, absent-mindedly honing the blade of his axe with practiced motions. His focus was on his breathing rather than his weapon, the repetitive motion serving more as a meditative focus than anything else. He returned to himself, observing the city's increasing number on the streets and returned his axe to his back. It was time then to return to the Jarl and see what he knows of dragons. He turned and began climbing the steps to Dragon's Reach. The guardsmen nodded and to him and without a word opened the doors of the hall. Kratos entered and saw the Jarl was sitting at one of the tables before the dais, food before him, in conversation with the svartalf, Irileth. The Jarl noticed him as well and immediately waved him over.

Balgruuf gestured to the place across from him, "Please sit, friend. First, I must remedy an oversight on my part. In my concern for Riverwood, I never asked your name."

After a moment's hesitation that was not lost on the Jarl, "I am called Kratos." He sat across from the Jarl, hands resting on his thighs.

"Well, Kratos, you are a man of singular skills it appears if somewhat unknown, and I would wager you don't lack for courage." He paused, as most adventurers would take the chance to say something of their bravery or exploits, and was met only with a stoic expression. Clearing his throat he continued, "Farengar, my court wizard has been researching dragons," Balgruuf's sharp eyes noted Kratos' focus sharpen at that, "and he needs an artifact recovered to continue. Would you be willing to assist us?"

Kratos nodded immediately, "Yes. I will help."

"Excellent! I'll have Farengar give you the particulars himself. I imagine that would be best." After receiving some additional detail from the wizard, Kratos set out immediately for the barrow.

* * *

His trip had been brief. There was little there to challenge him, only some malnourished bandits and a strange variety of undead. The only oddity was the creature in the final chamber. An undead creature like the rest but this one's voice had struck him with a very real and powerful force. Not that it had stopped him from crushing its skull against the sarcophagus it crawled out of. He climbed the steps to Dragon's Reach and immediately entered. Seeing the Jarl occupied with some form of audience, Kratos nodded to him and went directly to Farengar's workshop.

Farengar shot upright at his entrance, "You're back! You have it?" At his nod, Farengar clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Lay it down here and I'll get to work on trying to decipher the stone." Kratos lay the stone down on the table he had indicated; listening all the while to Farengar's mutterings and quickly developed and discarded hypotheses.

A sudden commotion drew Kratos' attention back to the main hall. The Jarl was on his feet when he entered. A mud spattered and exhausted looking hold guard stood before Jarl Balgruuf saying, "We sighted the beast several hours ago. When it began circling the watchtower I was dispatched to bring word back to Whiterun. After I was some distance off the dragon began its attack. I came with all haste, my Jarl." Balgruuf stepped forward and clapped the man on the shoulder.

"You did well. Extremely well. Now rest. We will take care of the rest." He turned to Irileth, "Put together a unit of men and go reinforce the western watchtower. I won't have dragon's rampaging across my hold!" Seeing Kratos, Balgruuf gestured him forward, "Kratos, I heard what you did to that giant. I want you to accompany Irileth and kill that damn monster. I can't have it coming back to Whiterun or Riverwood."

Kratos nodded sharply to the Jarl, "I can kill it." The Jarl let out a bark of laughter of laughter at his statement.

"Perhaps the strangest part is that I do not doubt that in the slightest, and until a few weeks ago I thought dragons were a myth." He stepped forward extending his hand. "Thank you, Kratos." Kratos nodded and the two clasped forearms. Irileth had already moved off and was mobilizing the soldiers.

Kratos headed for the doors of the hall, pausing to grab a hold of a passing soldier, "Tell the svartalf I will meet her and her men at the main gate." His message sent Kratos went immediately to the gate. Soon enough Irileth arrived with a troop of 20 men at her heels, all with bows on their backs in addition to their standard kit. Irileth formed up the men at the gate to perform a final check before they set out to the watchtower. Kratos approached her immediately, "Elf." He noted that she bristled somewhat and frowned slightly determining to explore this further at a later time. "Your armory, is it stocked with spears?" The soldiers all carried swords and axes as was their norm.

"Yes, _nord_. It is. Now, I must see to my—"

"How close do you want to be to the dragon? This close?" he asked stepping up to her, "Or a spear length away?" Irileth sighed. Few things frustrated her more than being undercut, except for perhaps being undercut when they have a point. She barked a few orders and sent several men running for spears. When they returned with the new arms, she stepped to the head of the formation.

"You know our mission. We have much ground to cover and no time for delay. Move out!" The expedition moved quickly out of the city and westward across the open planes of the hold. It was afternoon before they neared the watchtower. They had quick marched for hours and though the day was overcast and cool the strain of the pace was becoming evident even on professional soldiers.

Seeing Irileth's haste, Kratos barked out, "Company! Halt!" The men though unfamiliar with the voice were all too familiar with the tone of command and voice of authority stopped immediately. "Drink, eat sparingly, rest briefly. We go to war. We will go fresh and we will go to victory."

The men were already obeying, pulling out jerky and water skins when, Irileth rounded on him and hissed out "This is not your command! You do not give orders here!"

Kratos rumbled at this, "I do what I must. I will not run ragged men into the fight of their lives, not without any other option. The tower has been tormented by the beast for half a day. A few minutes will make no difference. It will to ours. I have led men. Do not spurn my advice for pride."

Irileth disliked how he had inserted himself into the chain of command but couldn't help but understand his logic. She simply nodded instead, "Check with me first. Split command does them no good."

Kratos nodded his assent, "On that we agree." After giving the men a rest, Irileth gave the order to form up and they continued on. Soon they were drawing nearer to the tower with no dragon in sight. Damage to the tower was obvious. There were rents in the tower, and it looked as if a portion of the top had been cast down to mingle with the older ruins and large boulders that dotted the plain surrounding it. Kratos had a familiar feeling of eyes on him, of ill intent. "It is here," he growled, scowling up and searching the skies. He caught Irileth's eye and she gave him a somewhat exasperated nod. Kratos raised his voice and spoke to the soldiers as the company continued forward, "The beast is here. The battle will be grim. First rank, spears! All others, bows! Every man here is your brother. Watch their backs. The beast is large. Keep to cover. Watch for opportunities and fight like wolves. Attack when its attention is elsewhere and retreat. We keep it distracted. We bleed it, find an opening, and kill it." The soldiers shifted nervously, hands clenching and unclenching on weapons. "Do _not _ignore the tail. It is a weapon." They were approaching the base of the tower, when they saw another hold guard open the door.

"It's still here!" he called to them just before a gigantic roar shook the earth and the dragon seemed to materialize from the clouds. It was a pale, mottled color and blended well with the grey weather and overcast skies. This beast was significantly smaller than the Helgen dragon, Kratos noted, perhaps an 80-foot wingspan.

"Take cover and loose arrows!" Kratos followed his own advice, ducking behind one of the boulders, as the beast swooped down and unleashed a torrent of flame that cut a smoking line through the center of the plain. Luckily the grasses were damp and didn't burn well, preventing a brush fire, during the battle at least. His low roaring voice cut through the other clangor of the battlefield, "Spread out! The beast will target groups!" The dragon again swooped low, drawing another blazing line across the field, and was peppered with arrows from both the men on the ground and from the tower as well. _If the creature keeps to the skies, it will eventually pick us off one by one._ _It needs a target. _"Target the wings and eyes! Be ready!" At his last statement, Irileth poked her head up from behind a nearby tumbled wall and her jaw dropped as Kratos strode into the more open clearing arms spread wide.

Kratos stood tall arms out his axe in one hand and screamed to the sky "Coward! Face me, wyrm! Face me and meet your death!" The dragons answering shriek had an added element of challenge and the proud creature dove down at Kratos. He waited until the dragon was committed to its path and then sprinted and dove to the side dodging the beast as it struck the ground, sliding, gouging furrows in the earth with its talons. Kratos ran head on at the dragon and cried "Wolves! Now!" The dragon struck like snake, gaping maw extending at the end of its long serpentine neck. Kratos dove forward and to the left as it did so, feeling the passing wind of its rushing fangs, each the size of a man's forearm. Kratos rolled to his feet and continued his reckless charge; he leapt forward and slammed his axe into the joint where wing met body. The dragon cried out in pain and outrage and spun snapping towards him again. One of the soldiers joined the fray running forward to stab at its flank before immediately falling back. The dragon hissed and glanced back only to receive a grazing cut along the muzzle from Kratos' axe. The dragon returned a vicious swipe that caught at Kratos sending him sailing through the air before striking one of the boulders. It spun then and with a breath and a cry immolated one of the spearbearers who did not retreat quickly enough. Kratos stood, dusted himself off and then bent again, seizing the boulder and hauling it up above his head and hurling it back at the dragon, before snatching up his axe and rejoining the fight. The soaring boulder smashed into the dragon's already wounded wing, wringing a pained screech from it. Kratos rushed in again, seeking to get within its reach, expecting for it to bite at him again with that engulfing maw. Instead it spun away and with a single snap of its jaws sheared another soldier in twain. Kratos' eyes widened slightly, _Ironic,_ he thought, as the whipping end of the tail came around and blasted him through the air and sending him through one of the ruined walls. Kratos looked up to see Irileth staring down at him in shock. He let out a low growl of growing rage and Irileth watched some of the abrasions and scratches—why were they only scratches!—seemed to melt away, leaving unblemished ashen skin. He climbed to his feet and sprinted back into the fight. The beast had its back turned and was hunting the soldiers through a small patch of old construction. Kratos neared the monster and his mighty legs flexed propelling him in a prodigious leap. He landed on the dragons back just above its rear legs and immediately brought his axe cleaving down into the dragons back, seeking bone. The beast roared in shock, and shuddered as Kratos brought his axe down again. The soldiers seeing Kratos on its back, went again on the offensive stabbing their spears at its throat and face, buying Kratos the time and footing for another stroke. He reared back and brought his axe down with titanic force. The dragon screamed as its back legs went dead and it collapsed to the ground. The men cheered and fell back using the dragon's distress as opportunity to retreat. Kratos ran up its back and jumped forward, opening a rent in the dragon's neck with his axe as he sailed past. Kratos landed and spun back to face the beast, which had reared up, its serpentine neck stretched tall. It lunged down, snapping at him, but he dodged to the side and hewed open a great rent in its neck letting loose a torrent of dark, steaming blood. Before the wounded beast could withdraw its head he struck again widening the gash, and then jumped catching the beast's horn in one hand. The dragon reared back up taking Kratos with it. The dragon's eye darted madly before sighting on Kratos in the edge of its periphery just in time to see his snarling face and the head of his axe. The axe smashed through the dragon's eye lodging there, and the beast whipped long neck about, spraying blood and trying to shake off the terror that clung to it. Kratos clung to dragon's horn, his hands like iron bands. With a terrible shout Kratos swung his body forward and slammed his feet into the haft of his axe embedded in the dragon's eye, driving in even further. Like a puppet with its strings cut the beast dropped, Kratos and its head falling some 30 feet to crash to the ground below, raising a cloud of dust and smoke.

Irileth and the other guards approached cautiously waiting for the dust to clear. When, in short order, it did, they saw Kratos working his axe free of the dragon's skull. The survivors roared out a cheer when they saw him standing and the dragon dead. Kratos finally wrenched his axe free with another gout of blood and fluid. Kratos waited a moment for the cheers, hugs and backslapping to calm some before calling out, "Wolves, you did well. Now, search for any wounded and gather your comrades. We have a long road back to Whiterun."

Irileth approached him slowly, with more caution than she had before, "You could have let them celebrate. It was a battle as hasn't been fought for centuries."

Kratos merely grunted and shrugged, "The wounded, if there are any, do not have that time." He paused. "It angered you when I called you elf. Why?"

Irileth blinked and shook her head at the sudden change of topic, casting her mind back to earlier that day and gave him a sidelong look, "You do not know?" He answered her with silence. "Many nords dislike my kind and because of that use such language. They think that Skyrim is only for the nords despite the fact that this is my home too. I have fought to defend it! I have just fought a _dragon_ to defend it! It is as much my home as theirs."

Kratos let out a small snort and bent to use a handful of grass to wipe gore off his axe. "I called you elf because you are an elf. Live where you will. Do what you will. I do not see the relevance of your ears." He glanced up to see a bemused expression on Irileth's face. His gaze abruptly sharpened on the body of the dragon behind her, seeing this Irileth spun, ice forming in her left hand and the sword flying into her right. They watched mutely as the dragon's body looked to crumple in on itself, the flesh seeming to catch fire from within and drift away as ash, leaving the enormous skeleton behind. Kratos stood, peering at the bones, "Very interesting."

Irileth stood looking nonplussed "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by more strange occurrences. We just killed a myth. Why wouldn't it turn to ash?" She let out a small snort, "I will see to the men," and she walked off to do just that. Due to the dragon's size and strength there were no true wounded, only those who escaped lightly and the dead. Eight men had died from the company that set out from Whiterun.

Kratos stood, axe in hand, looking still at the bones. The soldiers nearby were all casting glances at him and wondering in hushed tones, who he was and how it possible for a man to do what he had done. Kratos walked up to the skull and laid his axe against the base of one of the horns and set to work chopping it free from the skull. When he had hacked the one free he turned his attention to the other. Once he had them both free he bound them into a bundle with a few leather thongs and slung them over his back.

Soon enough, Irileth had the company loosely gathered. Kratos stepped up to them "Breathe deep, the battle is won. Now drink, eat, rest. We march back to Whiterun soon." After the men had time to recuperate somewhat, Irileth formed them up again for the return to Whiterun. They had been joined by a few survivors from the tower, bringing their company back to 17 in number, including Irileth and Kratos. Kratos joined Irileth at the head of the company and paused glancing at her, she stood at ease waiting on his word. Kratos called over his shoulder, "Company, forward! Slow march." And they began the long trudge back to Whiterun, exhausted and battered but victorious.

* * *

Author's Notes: I don't plan to have review responses in these notes, and it is unfortunate that I can't reply directly to guest reviews. Thank you to those guest reviewers who have taken the time to leave a note. I appreciate it.

I hope that you all enjoyed this installment, as always please let me know what you think and if you have any tips you think would help me improve the writing.


	4. Chapter 4

Kratos, Irileth and their merry band of battered soldiers made it back to Whiterun as night was falling. The return trip was significantly longer with the majority of the men having minor injuries and all of them being exhausted. They had been spotted from the walls and an escort of soldiers and a healer met them at the city gate. The healer and priestess of Kynareth, Danica Pure-Spring, approached them immediately, and addressed Irileth, "My people are standing by at the hall of Kynareth to receive the wounded. Are there any that can't wait, that I should see to now?"

Kratos shook his head slightly, "No, healer. They have all marched far. These men can make it to your clinic, but I believe almost all have some form of injury."

Danica turned to Kratos and gave him a business-like nod, "Very well, we will triage them at the hall." The company continued up into the cloud district of Whiterun and halted at the halls of Kynareth.

Kratos turned back to the men, "Everyone to the healer's clinic. All of you are to be examined and cleared for duty. Dismissed!" The soldiers all snapped a salute, fist clenched over heart, and made their way to the clinic. Kratos saw Danica cock and eyebrow at Irileth and receive only a small shrug in reply. With a snort he started up the steps to Dragon's Reach.

The great hall was buzzing with activity when Kratos and Irileth entered but fell silent when their presence became known. The Jarl was pacing as they approached the dais. "Well?" he asked, halting next to the throne, "What of the garrison? What of the dragon?"

Irileth stepped forward, "The tower is badly damaged, my jarl, and much of the western garrison is dead as well. The dragon responsible has also been slain." She nodded towards Kratos, towering silently beside her, "Kratos slew the beast. I fear that without his aid we would have been insufficient for the task." Jarl Balgruuf rubbed at his face briefly.

"Victory then, but costly." He shook his head slowly, "Still," he said turning and pitching his voice to carry throughout the hall, "we have much to celebrate! The beast is dead and Whiterun is the first hold in centuries to successfully repel a dragon attack!" He picked up a drinking horn and thrust it into the air, "For Whiterun!" the hall cheered in reply. "Bring out food and drink! Our returning heroes must be famished. Tonight we celebrate and on the morrow we will continue to prepare Whiterun." Balgruuf stepped down off the dais and approached Kratos and Irileth, "You have both done great deeds for this hold today. And you will be properly rewarded. Tonight we will feast, but, Kratos, I will send for you on the morrow when I have figured how best to show the gratitude of the hold.

The great hall swiftly became a feast hall as great quantities of food and mead were brought out and more tables were hastily set up. Celebrants of consequence began to pour into Dragon's Reach to take part in the celebration and the good news traveled like wildfire through the city, igniting parties at the Bannered Mare and the other inns throughout the city.

Kratos ate and drank quickly and sparingly, as he found the atmosphere in the hall quite difficult. Many people in such a small space he found off putting and it swiftly became far too loud. Moreover people were constantly approaching him with congratulations, slaps on the back and questions about the battle. Kratos' silence and stoic refusal to acknowledge most of those who approached eventually drove them away, but there were always more revelers to replace them. It swiftly drove him to frustration and he made his escape from the hall to a dim corner on the upper level walkways overlooking the main hall. It was there that Irileth found him, forearms resting on the railing. She walked up and leaned similarly up against the railing, not saying anything and preserving the relative quiet. After a few minutes she turned her head and spoke, "Not much for a feast?"

He shook his head and rumbled back, "No. I am not."

"I understand." She shifted her weight to her other foot, and flashed a razor smile, "You don't want to meet your fans."

Kratos let out a snort that could almost be called a chuckle. "I definitely do not. There are too many people. It is grating."

Irileth watched him from the corner of her eye. "You lived alone for a long time," she gestured broadly "out there. I've seen it before. Hunters who get used to the quiet of the wilds and find the city to be too loud."

Kratos nodded and stood, folding his arms across his chest, "You are correct. It is too loud. Especially when there are so many 'fans'."

She shrugged, "There are many who wish to congratulate the dragon slayer. Tales are already circulating, though none more incredible than the truth. I think you'll have to live with some notoriety, Kratos." He grunted and turned to leave, walking a few steps. "Kratos," he stopped and turned. Irileth approached and held out her hand, "It was an honor to fight beside you, _man._"

Kratos clasped her forearm, "You fought well, elf." He turned again and continued on his way, making his escape from the great hall out into the cool night air. He immediately went down to the Bannered Mare to arrange lodging for the night. He shunned the crowded common room and went directly to his room at least here he could find some privacy if not as much quiet as he would like.

* * *

Kratos whiled away the morning impatiently before finally receiving a summons from the Jarl at almost noon. Kratos immediately set out for Dragon's Reach. The guards at the door recognized him immediately and opened the doors as he neared. Without pause Kratos strode through the doors and down the great hall. The Jarl stood and cast his arms open wide as Kratos approached, "My good man! I have decided how to reward you properly. First I present you with this," He beckoned a guard forward carrying a large single-bladed great axe with an intricately engraved head. "A weapon from my armory. May it serve you well." Kratos took the weapon and examined it. Clearly it was of much finer workmanship than the rough tool he currently used. He nodded his thanks to the Jarl. "Moreover, I name you Thane of Whiterun. This is not simply a ceremonial title. You will oversee and rule a stretch of Whiterun in my name. The holding of Havverfjord is now yours. You are empowered to judge, collect taxes and raise a body of men to stand in the defense of the hold. To aid you in this you will receive a housecarl and steward. Proventus will also provide you with a list of the current edicts and laws that you are to uphold as thane. You have preserved many lives in my hold and we all are grateful. Proventus, will give you the remaining details."

Though neither his face nor careful nod showed it, Kratos was quite surprised. All of this had been a rather novel experience for him. He was appreciated by a people, recognized somewhat for his deeds, they were _grateful_ and moreover, wanted him to stay. It was different from being constantly at war, harried from place to place, always betrayed and hunted by gods. It was… _pleasant_.

Proventus' call snapped Kratos out of his reverie. He approached the aging imperial, noting the armored woman standing at his side. She was tall for a woman, likely a full 6 feet and strong, long limbed build. She was dressed in plate armor over leather and furs with a sword at her side and a round shield on her back. "Kratos, allow me to introduce your housecarl, Lydia. She will fight beside you and help you to manage your lands. First and foremost she will guide you there. Your new steward served the previous thane and is already on your holdings as he is a resident. I… feel it only fair to be open with you. The lands you have been granted have had their fair share of troubles. The previous thane was removed and imprisoned for corruption and misuse of power. Lydia is aware of all the details and can inform you later." Proventus gave him a tight smile, "I am pleased to see Havverfjord is in better hands now." He gestured to a small stack of books and papers on the table, "These should serve as reference materials and answer any other questions regarding the state of your holding and Whiterun law." With a deep nod Proventus withdrew, leaving Kratos standing next to his new housecarl.

Lydia swallowed down her nervousness and stepped forward extending a hand, "It is an honor to meet you, my thane." She felt dwarfed when he clasped her forearm and gave it a light squeeze, which she returned. His only reply was a nod. "May I inquire as to your plans, specifically, when you wish to go and see your holdings?" She waited as he stood silently, considering her question she assumed, for she could read absolutely nothing on his face.

"We will go there now. Are you prepared to travel?" She nodded her assent.

"I assumed you would wish to see Havverfjord. My pack is ready, I will return with it presently." Lydia bowed and retreated to her room. She could not tell if this assignment was a vote of confidence in her abilities or a complete lack. She had trained in the Jarl's household for years and had risen higher than many street urchins would have ever dreamed. But now she was placed with this strange, unknown new thane, about whom she had heard outlandish and frankly frightening stories. Beating a giant to death with its own club! She opened the door to her room and snatched up her pack quickly. She had absolutely no idea what to expect from this new expectation. With a sigh she slung the pack across her back and hurried back from the main hall. Whatever it ended up being she would make the best of it and turn it to something good. She had never been one to give up. It was how she had survived on the streets as an orphan, avoided the whorehouses in her youth and made something real out of herself. _This will be hard. It will be a challenge. A challenge you will learn and grow from. You will become stronger and you are already strong._

Once the girl had gone to get retrieve her pack, Kratos set off for Farengar's workshop to speak with the man and retrieve the pair of horns he had left in his care. Farengar's work shop was filled with desk space, all covered seemingly at random by various books and papers, with an alchemy station in one corner and a strange pentagonal workstation adorned with glowing runes next to it. Farengar himself was facing away from the door, at one of his desks, and was muttering quickly to himself under his breath as he scanned over the tablet Kratos had retrieved and various tomes. Kratos approached much quieter than any would expect for a man of his size. "Wizard." The squirrely court wizard yelped and started, throwing his hands up and losing his grip on his quill.

"Kratos!" He looked around for his lost quill for a moment before looking back at the man towering over him "Why? Just… why?" Seeing his quill slightly under the desk he bent to retrieve it. "I swear you get some sort of perverse glee from doing that." Kratos' face was a blank and stoic as ever, but internally he must admit that there was some truth to the wizard's words. It was humorous.

"Have you learned anything from the stone, wizard?"

"Oh you mean the two or three thousand year old tablet written half in a language I don't speak and half in carvings open to a wide variety of interpretation? It's definitely about dragons." He sighed, tossed back the hood of his robes and rubbed at his head. "I share your impatience. I want to know as well! This is going to take time though. To be honest I don't know how long."

"I am going to my lands."

"Congratulations, by the way" Farengar interjected with an absent wave of his hand.

"If you learn anything, send word. If you need something else retrieved, inform me. I want to know more about these dragons. Namely the large black one." Kratos retrieved the bundle of horn and slung it over his shoulder.

"Yes, yes. I'll send word when I have anything concrete. Or if I need some doors kicked in or something." He bent immediately over the desk again, picking up where he had left off.

Lydia reentered the main hall to her see her thane coming out of Farengar's workshop with the dragon's horns bundled together as a sling over one shoulder. Kratos walked up to her quickly. "Girl. You are ready?" Lydia blinked at that. _Girl?_

"Uh, yes, I have everything, my thane."

"Good. We are leaving." Despite not truly knowing their destination, Kratos led the way out of Dragon's Reach. Lydia, walking behind could not help but notice that he seemed to carry almost nothing, just the horns and a small leather satchel that couldn't hold more than a waterskin and small quantity of food.

"My thane, Havverfjord will be at least a two day journey. Are you sure you do not need any more supplies. I can quickly get something suitable together."

"No. There is no need. I have gone farther with less." With a shrug that Kratos a few paces ahead could not see, Lydia let the subject drop. Once outside of the city walls, Lydia would indicate the direction, but Kratos still led the actual column of travel. They headed west towards Rorikstead. The actual town of Havverfjord and the associated lands and homesteads was approximately at the midpoint between Whiterun and Rorikstead but north, in the foothills of the mountains. Kratos set a punishing pace throughout the day and Lydia was hard pressed to keep up, especially in her armor, which wasn't something she could remove as she was supposed to be the one guarding him.

When they stopped for the night she was well and truly exhausted. They quickly set up a sparse camp, gathering some tinder and dry material which Kratos lit quickly using his axe and a flint. Lydia was about to suggest putting together some sort of stew or hot meal when she saw Kratos had already half consumed a dry biscuit and some sort of jerky, the most Spartan of trail rations, sitting and staring into the small fire. With an inward sigh she dug out her own cold meal.

She was jerked out of her reverie when he spoke, "The old man said you knew more of my lands. Of the situation there."

"It has seen its share of troubles. The previous thane was removed some time ago, but under his stewardship the people suffered. Taxes were very high to support his… more lavish lifestyle and any who spoke out against him were taxed and persecuted out of the holding. By the end he had no men at arms and bandits had set up in the surrounding county, along with who knows what else. The wilds of Skyrim can be dangerous. There… there were rumors that he had an arrangement of some kind with the bandits in exchange for a portion of their thieving. They say that is why he was removed by Jarl Balgruuf." She paused, "You will not find it a prosperous place."

Kratos merely let out a grunt, "I do not need money." What he needed was more information. He was in this strange place and he did not want to accentuate his ignorance of commonplace things. This woman however was sworn to him now. There would be few sources safer. He was quiet for a time, before speaking again, "Tell me of the Stormcloaks and this Empire."

Lydia frowned, shooting a glance at him, "I'm afraid I don't exactly take your meaning. What about them precisely?"

"Who they are, how they came to be. I am a stranger in these lands. There was also a war with elves. I would know of this as well." Lydia was beginning to think that the strangest and quietest rumor she had heard may be true. She had heard a whisper from Riverwood that someone there had met a man who was not from Nirn but from some other plane or realm of oblivion. Kratos had come to Whiterun from Riverwood. Feeling somewhat out of her depth, being neither politician nor historian, Lydia began to explain the history of Skyrim, the Empire, and the Great War, as well as the current state of affairs. They talked long into the night, Kratos only occasionally asking questions. Seeing her stifle a yawn, Kratos interjected, "This sufficient for now. I will take the first watch."

Lydia nodded her assent and quickly removed her armor, leaving on her heavy gambeson before getting into her bedroll. She was exhausted and all too happy to go sleep, but wanting to put her best foot forward with her new thane she spoke up, "Wake me when Secunda rises and I will watch until morning." Kratos only let out a soft grunt in reply and walked a few paces away from the fire, leaning against one of the boulders that so often dotted Whiterun's plains.

Kratos watched the open plains and sat enjoying the calm and chill night air. He would freely admit that there was a beauty to this land. The same sort of ancient wildness that was present in the northlands of his own plane existed here as well. He found it very peaceful. He watched the second moon rise over the edge of the horizon and sat looking up at the sky bathed in the light of two moons. _The poets would have much to say about this sight. _He stood and walked over to the girl, he was about to speak when she shifted in her sleep and curled tighter under the blanket. He hesitated for a time before walking back out look at the moons and stars. It was a night worth seeing.

"Girl. Wake up." Lydia awoke feeling far better than she was expecting and was surprised to see the pre-dawn light at the horizon. She scrambled up quickly and immediately set to strapping on her armor.

"My thane, you did not wake me! I should have had the second watch so you could rest as well." She was feeling quite flustered. An excellent start to their association, a housecarl that can't even wake up to keep watch on the camp! It was mortifying! Kratos only shrugged and stoked the fire.

"I did not require rest." Lydia mulled that over. It seemed almost that the man did not know what to do with someone else in the camp. She set water to boil for tea and then proceeded to pack up the remainder of the campsite. When it was ready she poured out two cups and took one over to Kratos. He accepted it gravely and nodded, "My thanks." They stood side by side in silence for a few moments watching the horizon grow brighter. Kratos finally took a sip and made small, pleased sound of surprise. At Lydia's glance he explained, "I do not like tea. But this is good. What is it?"

"Snowberries mainly. It's my favorite blend." They settled again into silence, but this one feeling much more companionable. _I suppose I shouldn't be surprised he has never had snowberry tea. He didn't know who the Thalmor were. At this point nothing should surprise me about him really._ With a nod to each other they broke down the rest of the camp and wiped away the last traces of their presence.

The rest of their journey passed in much the same fashion, a quiet day of travel with the evening spent explaining some of the commonplace aspects of history and Skyrim life to Kratos. On the second day they entered a more developed area of the holding if still very sparsely populated, passing farms and homesteads occasionally as they went.

At around noon on the third day from setting out from Whiterun they arrived in Havverfjord proper. It was a small town of a few thousand people not much more than the main road and a few offshoots. They garnered more than a few stares as they proceeded up the main thoroughfare towards the northern end of town where the thane's longhouse was located. Not that Lydia could blame them. She would freely admit that she had had a good stare of her own the first time that she saw Kratos. The man had a ferocious appearance. She knew this would only serve to fuel what she expected was already rampant speculation about their new thane.

The longhouse was surprisingly large and obviously very well maintained. Kratos didn't spare it even a momentary glance and immediately tromped inside. The inside of the longhouse was highly decorated with many rugs, wall hangings and ornamental pieces. There was a large table in the main hall of the house to serve as a gathering place, with rooms breaking off from that primary hall and stairs and the far end leading up to the second story.

"Hello? Who is there?" An exceptionally average nord man walked out of one of the adjoining rooms. He had shoulder length brown hair and still held a quill between his ink-smudged fingers.

Lydia stepped forward, gesturing back towards Kratos, "This our new thane, Kratos. My thane, this is the steward of Havverfjord, Thomas."

"A pleasure, my thane. I hope that you find everything here to your liking." He eyed Kratos' considerable size, "I see now that I needn't have retained any of the wardrobe of your predecessor as it will clearly be unsuitable."

Kratos nodded to him and continued to slowly peruse the hall. He gestured at the hanging banners "Were these taken in battle?"

Thomas hesitated and looked over at Lydia. "No, my thane," he answered slowly, "they were not." Kratos let out a small snort.

"Remove them. This hall is full of the gilding of a corrupt and weak man. I want none of it."

"I must warn you the financial state of affairs is… not strong. What would you like them replaced with?"

"Nothing."

Thomas was taken aback at that. "Nothing, my thane?" Kratos shot him a quick frown. "As you say. Nothing it is. How shall I dispose of the items?"

Kratos shrugged, "Give them to the people. Or turn them to coin for the holding. See to it." He paced around the room some more, "Compile a list of pressing concerns, but first, I am told there are bandits on our lands. Find the one who had the most recent encounter and send them to me immediately."

Thomas cleared his throat, "I will set to work immediately. My thane, it is customary that an event is held in which the people of the holding come to meet you and swear to you."

Kratos turned to Lydia, who had followed him as he examined the hall and asked in a low voice "This is an important custom?"

She nodded and in a similarly low tone replied "Yes, my thane. It will cause some remark if it is not done quickly."

With an exhale of annoyance Kratos turned again to his steward, "It will be tomorrow. You will find I do not care for ceremony. Let it be simple." Kratos in his explorations happened upon the armory and his lips curled slightly as he looked inside. He quickly snatched up a sword and round shield and headed for the exit passing by Thomas, "Girl, let us see what you can do." Lydia followed on his heels, when she passed the spluttering Thomas she just turned, walking backwards and raised her hands slightly and shrugged at him before hurrying after Kratos.

He went around the side of the longhouse and found a small cleared side yard. He examined it briefly, gauging its size. He nodded, "This will do." He settled the sword and shield in his hands and turned to face Lydia. "Come girl. Show me." Lydia was unsure of how to proceed. She wanted to put forward a good impression of her skills, but also was not clear on the rules of training that this new thane of hers would expect. If nothing else she was interested to see how he fought without his preferred axe, and in her favored style no less. After a moment's hesitation she drew her blade and attacked. Kratos seemed to almost dance around her, deflecting rather than blocking her blows, always diverting the force of them. It was rather infuriating and Lydia did not like to feel toyed with. She began to strike in earnest, hard and vicious blows, but now also had to keep up her guard as Kratos blade would flick out quick as a serpent and test her guard. She clenched her teeth as another strike flickered by her guard and pinged her armor. _I am outmatched. But I will have at least one good blow!_ She thought as she began to fight more recklessly. She did not see a frown snap into place on Kratos' face. Lydia extended herself to far in a lunge and Kratos lightly kicked her foot further out of place. The next thing she knew she was on her back in the dust with the wind knocked out of her. Kratos had pivoted quickly and punched her down with the end of his shield.

She looked up gasping to see him on one knee beside her, resting a hand on his thigh. "You are skilled," he rumbled, "but you lost your temper." He scowled again. "A warrior is nothing without this." He reached out and tapped her forehead twice with a thick finger "It is your greatest weapon." He stood.

"I'm sorry, my thane –"

"Do not be sorry." He interrupted, extending a hand down to her, "Be better." She took his hand and he lifted her to her feet.

"I will."

* * *

AN: Thanks again to everyone who has read and reviewed the story. If you are enjoying it, please do leave a comment. It does increase my writing motivation.

It's unfortunate that since this is such a niche crossover that it won't see the traffic of a main Skyrim fic. But what can you do?


	5. Chapter 5

Torrold was nervous. In fact he was sweating as he walked up the steps to the thane's longhouse. _What on earth could he possibly want with me? Here barely a few hours and he calls me in there. This sort of thing never ends well. As if this week could get much worse._ He scrubbed his sweaty palms on his trousers and took a slow breath. He'd already gotten robbed by those damn bandits and lost the cart and his horse. That was going to make things hard enough without whatever this was. With a sigh he steeled himself and stepped inside. He stopped in the entryway and was surprised to see Thomas the steward piling up the various trinkets and hangings in the hall. Torrold cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Ah, Torrold. Good to see you." Thomas straightened and walked over to him dusting off his hands. "I was sorry to hear about your misfortune on the road. You were robbed not 4 days ago, yes?"

Torrold bobbed his head in a quick nod, "5 days ago in fact, sir." He licked his lips, "Is that what this is about then?

"I wish I could tell you for certain. All I know is that Thane Kratos inquired about the bandit activity and asked for the most recent victim to be brought to him." Thomas gave him a smile, "Come now, he's in the council room."

Torrold hesitated, "What sort of a man is he, this new thane?"

Thomas paused, opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again before saying, "You'll see. This way." Torrold gingerly followed in Thomas' wake across the hall. Thomas knocked at a door and after a moment opened it, announcing them, "My thane, this is trader Torrold. He is the latest one to fall prey to the bandits that have been operating in the area." As he delivered this Thomas ushered Torrold into the room. Kratos was leaning, palms planted, over a large table with a map spread before him. Lydia was across the table from him still armored, arms folded and examining the map. Torrold's eyes widened as Kratos straightened and turned towards him.

The deep gravelly voice knocked Torrold out of his shock at seeing this ash-skinned mountain of a man. "Where were you robbed?"

"Uh, ah, most of a day's trek west of here, on the way to Rorikstead, thane."

"Show me on the map."

Torrold hesitantly approached and looked at the map. He grimaced for a moment before indicating a point on the map. "I'm not much of a one for maps, thane, but there was an old dead snag, lightning struck, on the right side of the road near where it happened. I remember thinking it was a forbidding old thing. Guess it was bad luck."

Kratos looked down at the map and nodded, "Good. What was stolen?"

"Various bits of home crafted goods, produce, some leather goods and a few of the bowyers bows and arrows.

Kratos let out a thoughtful rumble, "A cart then. Their camp is likely fairly close to the road. No recent rain means we may have a clear track if they are careless." He turned to Lydia, "We will go after the ceremony tomorrow and deal with them."

Torrold's heart leapt at that, "I will wish you and your men luck, thane, and pray for your success. It was not a small band and they seemed hard men."

Kratos let out a snort, "How many?"

"10? 15 maybe? I couldn't say for sure. I was terrified and did not even think of counting them."

Kratos shrugged, "We are sufficient to the task. Do you know anything else of use?"

"No, thane. That's all I know."

"Then go." Torrold made a jerky bow and left the room quickly. _Just wait till the lands at the tavern hear about this! He's a spooky bastard!_ _Wouldn't want to be those bandits._ He beat a hasty retreat from the longhouse and headed back to The Red Fox, Havverfjord's inn, where he immediately began relating his story of meeting the new thane.

* * *

To Lydia, the previous evening and morning were a blur of activity. After discussing their plans for dealing with the bandits, Thomas and Lydia had set about making preparations for the oath ceremony the next day. There was a great deal to do. Word had to be spread, the ceremony organized, something for Kratos to wear other than armor had to be made, along with numerous other details. As far as she knew in the intervening time the thane himself had set to work clearing, leveling and expanding the training field behind the longhouse, having deemed it "unfit."

She approached Kratos' door with a bundle of clothing in her arms. She knocked sharply twice and upon hearing his simple, "Enter," did so. He had evidently just washed as his the pauldron and bracers were resting on the table near the door.

"My thane, here are some more suitable clothes for the ceremony. The people are gathering and all should be in readiness soon." She swore she heard him let out a small sigh.

"Is this necessary?"

"I would say so, my thane." She walked over and placed the clothes on the dresser next to him. "The people need to see you. This will give them a sense of security and stability. That is important and will make your rule easier." He eyes fell on his bare arm as he reached for the pile of clothing and widened in shock when she saw the thick bands of scarring that wrapped around the entirety of his forearms. She blinked and retreated to the table by the door.

"I understand. But I do not like it. I am not a man well suited for ceremony." He paused and looked down at the clothes. "I do not think that the sight of me will comfort them."

Lydia smiled, "I think that they will see someone capable of defending their home. You worry overmuch, my thane." She looked down at the bracers on the table and noticed a subtle symbol embossed on the metal plates at the back of the hand guards. It was almost a circle but it had on opening at the bottom from which the design extended down before flaring out and then up at right angles. _His personal crest. I did not note that before._ She turned back to him, "It is not a long ceremony." She gave him a small bow and took her leave.

Kratos stared at the clothes. This he did not enjoy. With a frustrated snort he began to change quickly. The sooner he went out and began this farce, the sooner it would be over. His clothing was fairly simple but of a reasonably well to do cut. It consisted initially of fine dark grey woolen trousers and a linen shirt. Over the top went sort of open short robe that went under the final piece, an open quilted coat, edged with leather, that came down to his knees and was held closed with a broad, finely tooled leather belt.

Kratos took a moment to steel himself and then abruptly left the room and proceeded directly outside. He stepped out onto the porch of the longhouse where Lydia, Thomas and an unknown man in a hooded robe were waiting for him and looked out across clear yard in front of the longhouse, which was filled with a mass of people that extended down the main street. Apparently curiosity has driven a large turnout despite the short notice.

Thomas raised his hands and stepped forward, pitching his voice to carry, "Before you now is the jarl's representative and Thane of Havverfjord. Thane Kratos, Giant Killer and Dragon's Bane." He stepped back again, Kratos shooting him a look at the additional titles. The robed man stepped forward now, a priest of some kind if Kratos was any judge, based off the robes and the symbol hanging from his neck.

"Blessings of the Nine upon you, thane, that you may govern with the strength of Talos and the wisdom of Zenithar!" Kratos stood motionless and ignored the rest of the priest's blathering. The gods were not his business. At a point the crowd answered back a sentence or two as part of the priest's portion. A renewal of fealty he assumed. Kratos brow furrowed momentarily at that point. He felt something strange almost as if the warmth of the sun intensified for a brief moment. Strange. After an eternity that was likely only a half of an hour the priest stepped back.

Thomas leaned in towards Kratos, "My thane, would you care to address the people?" Kratos' face may as well have been carved from stone.

"No." Lydia's lips twitched into a smile that was hurriedly suppressed.

Thomas swallowed and turned back to the crowd, "As our thane believes in action rather than empty speeches, we have concluded. Blessings of the Nine." He turned back to Kratos, "It is customary that for a time you remain and allow those who wish, to greet you personally. You certainly will not see everyone, but I would recommend it as it engenders goodwill."

Kratos nodded despite his desire to have done with the whole ordeal, "Very well." Kratos stood for a time receiving the greetings and well wishes of some of the residents of Havverfjord, generally only nodding in reply or rumbling the occasional, "My thanks." Lydia watched and could not help but find the situation quite amusing. The man could kill enormous beasts and defeat her with ease, but this was both difficult and uncomfortable for him. She noticed his face subtly growing grimmer and decided that the time had come.

Lydia stepped in after the latest pair of townsfolk took their leave and spoke loud enough so that the surrounding people could hear them. "My thane, I am loathe to interrupt your greeting of the people, but if you still desire to begin the bandit hunt today we must take our leave." Lydia smiled slightly as she saw his face almost imperceptibly relax.

Kratos nodded, "Yes. We must go. I will gather my supplies. Make ready." He heard the news spread into the crowd and those closest to them called well wishes and blessings on them for going after those outlaws. Kratos turned and walked back into the longhouse, exhaling with relief as the longhouse lessened the noise of the crowd outside.

Kratos changed quickly, feeling much more at ease once he was again in his own worn armor. He stepped back out of his private room and descended to the main hall where Lydia was waiting for him. "You are prepared?"

"Yes, my thane. I am ready."

"Good. We are leaving." Lydia picked up a small leather travel satchel packed only with the essentials, not unlike the one that Kratos had slung on his own back, and followed him to the door. Kratos thumped down the long house steps and ignored the stares of the assembled crowd that had not entirely dispersed form the earlier ceremony. They had just seen him for the first time, only minutes ago, dressed in the fashion of a Nordic man of reasonable means. He still cut a frightening view with his imposing size and striking tattoos, but now in his pauldron rig, gauntlets and girdle, with his arms and most of his torso bare, he truly was a barbarous sight.

Kratos ignored the surprised glances of the people entirely, or perhaps their looks did not even register to him in the first place. He marched forward, his long legs carrying him along with surprising swiftness. The townsfolk parted before him, scattering from his path. Lydia followed along in his wake and couldn't help but wonder what impact this would have on the overall morale of the town. She would have to ask Thomas once they had returned.

Soon they cleared the town and were once again on the open road. Kratos took a deep breath and savored the clean alpine air of Skyrim. Havverfjord was not a large or highly populated place but the wilds were still a much more comfortable place for him. Free of the noise and press of humanity. Calm. Kratos set a punishing pace for them as they went along the open road. He and Lydia carried on quietly for some time before she hesitantly spoke, "My thane, if I may ask, where are you from? I know you are no native of Skyrim and every other province of Tamriel is equally unlikely. " Kratos cast her a sharp sidelong glance as they continued on their way. They walked in silence for a minute, Lydia looking over at him every so often. "Atmora. You could be from Atmora."

Kratos shook his head, "No, girl. I am from no land you know."

"Will you tell me then?"

Kratos slowed slightly, considering her question briefly, before letting out a forceful breath, "Not yet."

Lydia let out a frustrated breath of her own and looked away to the northern mountains. They walked in silence again. Lydia chewed over their previous conversations in her mind growing slowly more annoyed, brows drawing closer together. "My thane, you know I am sworn to you. But I do not think you know what that means." She looked back over to him as they walked. "I have no place and no family. All my life I have trained to be a housecarl. I have nothing else. I am your shield and right arm. I am sworn to carry your burdens and keep your secrets. I would take them to my grave." She hitched her shield higher on her shoulder, her back ramrod straight, "You will see."

Kratos gave her an appraising look and after a few beats, a nod. She could have sworn she saw his lips twitch in what may have been a ghost of a smile, "I believe you." They continued on in a much more companionable silence than before, and the miles disappeared beneath their feet.

"Look there." Came Kratos' gravelly rumble, "That must be the tree the merchant told us of." Down the road they could see the old tree, a charred ruin split by a lightning strike but somehow still standing. Lydia immediately started forward but halted when Kratos caught her shoulder. "No. Approach cautiously. They may be near." Lydia nodded and followed him as he moved off of the road a ways and then began his approach to the tree from this new angle. They moved with stealth, keeping themselves obscured with the hilly topography and brush that dominated the area. Kratos slowed even more as they neared the tree, casting his eyes over the surrounding area and asked in a low murmur, "Can you hunt? Track?"

Lydia stopped her examination of the area and looked up at him, "I am no master of woodcraft, my thane." Kratos let out a small grunt at that. She continued, pointing, "but even I can see where the wheels of the cart turned off of the main road." She held back a smile at his approving nod.

"Good. The bandits took the cart. They have grown overconfident and undisciplined." He let out a small snort, "They leave an easy trail to their home just to avoid carrying their spoils. Fools." He turned back to Lydia and gestured at the tracks, "Lead on, girl."

She swallowed somewhat nervously, certainly feeling that this was another test being posed by her new thane. The bandits appeared to be heading north, up into the foothills. Lydia took up the trail and began to follow it, careful not to disturb the original sign by her own passing. Luckily for her the bandits had truly grown bold and the trail was for the most part not difficult to follow. Whenever she was worried that she had lost the trail or was unsure of the precise direction, Kratos seemed to sense it and would silently draw her attention some minor sign that she had missed, showing her new things to look for.

At one stretch of rocky ground on the trail she reapplied one of the thane's lessons, seeing a similar track to earlier and pointed it out. Lydia could have sworn she saw a faint smile in his eyes when she looked back and saw him nodding at her. Soon they spotted an abandoned fort, not more than a low ruin, rising slightly above the low hills leading up into the mountains.

They approached in a crouch as quietly as they could, wary of sentries, and when they began to near the ruins, Kratos touched Lydia's arm to halt her. The ruins were essentially just a tumbled stone wall, encircling a small area of the wilderness. The tracks led up to and through the open arch of a gateway that had somehow remained standing. Through that they could see various members of the bandit troupe moving about the camp and heard their harsh voices. Kratos waited settled down on his heels to observe the encampment. Lydia took a knee near him, grateful for the rest. It had been a long day of travel and then tracking through fairly rough terrain. It was early evening now and she was fairly tired. Traipsing across Whiterun hold in plate armor at the pace Kratos set was not something for the faint of heart.

They waited, silently watching, for a few minutes before Kratos spoke in a rough whisper, "Girl, circle the ruins to the west. There is a gap through which they may try to flee. Do not let them. I will enter by the gate. I will wait a slow count of 400 and then attack." They nodded to each other, the plan made sense to Lydia. It never even occurred to her to question the wisdom her thane walking alone into a fight with over a dozen men. Lydia straightened slightly to go when he spoke again, "Girl." Lydia turned back to him, her eyes questioning. Kratos reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, he examined her face for a moment, "Fight well." He withdrew his hand, gave her a tiny nod and then gestured with his chin to her path. She nodded in return and then set off. She moved in a crouch trying to set the right balance between speed and stealth. She wanted to be in position, but she knew that in steel plate, she wasn't exactly light on her feet. What she didn't notice as she worked her way west was that her fatigue was gone, she felt only a growing excitement at the prospect of the battle to come.

Kratos waited, his index finger silently tapping out the 400 count against his knee. With his count complete, Kratos stood and walked openly, his great axe resting lightly in his hand, up the trail to the open archway. He had almost reached the passage when the bandits noted his approach. Kratos could see the news travel through the camp in nudges and mutters. A lone man walking did not immediately alarm them and the band gravitated together towards the archway.

Kratos had passed the gate when one of the men called out "Hold, you." The bandit stepped forward a war axe in hand and sauntered towards him, "Who are you, and what in oblivion do you think you are doing in our camp?" Kratos stopped and remained silent, eyeing the man. The bandit continued to approach, casting a disbelieving look over his shoulder at his compatriots, "I don't know what you think you're doing here, but if you want to leave with your life, you are going to drop what coin you have and then run away."

The bandit's face twisted in growing anger, as Kratos remained silent and still, his face veritably carved from stone, arms resting at his sides, axe in hand. The bandit pointed at him his axe and took a final step forward, of which he did not realize the significance, "I've had it with – " Before the bandit could finish, Kratos' axe blurred in a low and brutal forehand. The bandit let out a blood-curdling scream as it crashed through his knee, severing his lower leg and sending out a jetting crimson spray. Before the bandit could even topple, Kratos seized the haft of his axe with both hands and let loose a horrific backhanded blow that bisected the bandit's torso, cutting off his scream and throwing blood and viscera across the yard.

Over the remaining bandits' exclamations of shock came Kratos' roar as he charged directly at the center of the clustered bandit clan. Kratos took several running steps and leapt the remaining distance, axe raised high over his head. The bandit before him futilely raised his shield, but that shield and the man behind it were both shattered and slammed into the earth. Kratos whipped his left arm up and across, using his armored bracer to deflect a descending sword blade and shot a straight kick out into his attacker's chest, caving it in and sending the man hurtling into the bandit's behind him, sowing further chaos. He spun back the other side, axe leading and smashing past a hastily raised guard to smoothly decapitate one the bandits.

The battle swiftly descended from there into a frenzy of severed limbs and arterial spray, turning the camp into a charnel house. Kratos saw a couple of the bandits near the back of the group break and run for the gap in the western wall, overcome by the scene of slaughter before them. With a snarl on his face Kratos continued to butcher the remaining bandits.

* * *

When she heard the screams tear through the bandit encampment Lydia took that as her signal to attack. She rose from her place of concealment and sprinted with all her might for the gap in the wall. Her feet flew over the ground as she ascended the hill to the gap. Her eyes widened and she nearly tripped in surprise at how she was able to push herself and the speed she was able to achieve despite her armor. Hearing yells before her, she readied her shield, but did not slow her pace.

She saw two bandits running towards the gap. The leading man was looking in horror over his shoulder and was not quick enough to heed his ally's warning. Lydia raised her shield, ducked her shoulder and slammed into him in a shield rush that rocketed him off his feet and sent him head over heels tumbling down into the rubble. Lydia did not have the luxury of time to be shocked about the force with which she struck the running man, and spun to parry a descending blade. They exchanged a few blows before Lydia knocked the bandit's blade wide with her shield and, with a twist of her hips, rammed a foot of sharp steel through his worn leather armor. The bandit spluttered blood, looking down with wide eyes at the blade transfixing him before Lydia, continuing forward, shoved him down and off her blade. She stepped over the soon to be corpse and rushed the first bandit who was just now stumbling to his feet with one hand on his head. Lydia gave him no time to recover and immediately smashed her blade into the side of his head with a shout.

A third bandit rushed her, this one a large, burly man wielding a bulky war hammer, she took the first blow on her shield, the impact setting her on her heels and reverberating through her arm and shoulder. She winced around gritted teeth; she did not want to endure any more hits from that war hammer. She shook her arm out as she and the bandit circled each other, after a moment he came in with another horizontal strike. She raised her shield as if to block, but darted back at the last moment, letting the heavy hammerhead whistle by. She immediately jumped forward again inside his reach and opened a gash on the bandit's forearm with her sword causing the bandit to lose his grip on the weapon with a cry of pain. What Lydia did not expect was the man to abandon the war hammer with no hesitation and with a roar immediately leap on her in a full tackle.

Lydia was knocked flat on her back with the large bandit atop her, but her shield between them. With the man in so close she was unable to get any viable angle stab at the man and no space to use the edge of her sword. They struggled for a moment, before her eyes widened when she saw the man grab hold of tankard-sized rock near her head. "Nine preserve me!"

The bandit raised the stone high with a snarl, "Time to die, bitch!"

"Shit!" Lydia thrashed, dropping her sword, grabbing at him, heaving suddenly with her trapped shield arm and jerking her head to the side. The stone came crashing down, smashing into the earth just to the side of her head. Lydia's eyes darted from the rock to the bandit's hate twisted face. "Kratos!" she called, panic creeping into her voice, as she clawed for the dagger at her belt, pinned under her shield. She gritted her teeth as the bandit again raised the stone when abruptly he was jerked off of her. Lydia raised her head to see that Kratos had seized the bandit's ankles and yanked him off of her.

Kratos still had the man's ankles in his steely grasp and Lydia let out a cry of shock when he swung the bandit up in the air and beat him against the stony ground. Kratos repeated the process again before he spun in a half circle and flung the remaining wreck of a man at the nearest wall of the ruin where he tore like overripe fruit.

Kratos, spattered liberally with blood, walked across the damp earth to Lydia and offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation and he hauled her to her feet. He could see the shock in her eyes, the fear from her close call, and the anger she felt at herself for that fear and for being in that position at all. He knew the recriminations. He had seen them in his son. He had not found it pleasant then and he did not find it so now. Kratos let out a small rumble and placed a hand along Lydia's face, "Girl. You are well?" She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it and instead only nodded. "You fought well." Her brown eyes darted up and met his amber ones at that statement, obvious disbelief on her face. She saw a slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes at that. "But you will fight better." He dropped his hand and stepped back. "Come. Let us gather what we may."

* * *

AN: Some work travel delayed this installment. Hope you all enjoyed it.

As always let me know what you think. If there's an aspect of the story that you think is weak, let me know specifically what that is. Always happy to get any constructive feedback that will help me improve future chapters.

Reviews are the fuel that helps keep this engine pushing onward, and I really appreciate those who take the time to leave their thoughts.

Apologies for any editing mistakes.


	6. Chapter 6

Lydia awoke hearing the familiar gravelly voice, "Girl. Hunt?" She looked up and saw in the dim light Kratos' head peaking through the barely open door. She nodded to him and he shut the door gently. She came awake quickly having become accustomed to rising before the sun since becoming housecarl to Kratos.

Their time had been busy since they had returned with their cart of loot from that first bandit camp several months ago. True to his word Kratos had indeed done away with every tax that wasn't levied by the jarl himself and to be fair even there he was not a diligent tax collector. He simply was completely unmotivated by material goods. Something that certainly frustrated his steward Thomas to no end, as he had the job of somehow keeping the household running. Initially they had run off of the monies and goods taken back from those first bandits.

When the people saw Kratos out training with Lydia and working everyday, completing various works, clearing trees and repairing and improving infrastructure in the town, soon enough the people of the holding had begun bringing goods and money to Thomas of their own accord. The holding ran on what outlaws Kratos and she hunted down and the gifts of populace. She was always surprised by the generosity of the people, but perhaps she shouldn't have been. The people had gone from a deeply corrupt leader to one who was nearly an ascetic and completely incorruptible.

The people began to truly respect him as well. He wasn't an open man, or what one might call kind in the traditional sense, but he was unfailingly just if in no way soft. He also seemed to somehow be in the area when his prodigious strength would be of help. He always seemed somewhat exasperated, but his help was freely given, which made Lydia wonder if he didn't gain some satisfaction from seeing to the needs of his hold and somehow plan to be there.

It was a time of disconcerting rumors as well. There was talk from traders about tensions between the Empire and the Stormcloaks escalating and more skirmishes taking place. It was even said that in a portion of Skyrim the voice of the Greybeards had been heard calling for the dragonborn.

It was not long after that, that Kratos had put out the call for those willing to be soldiers. Men and women had quickly flocked in and the corps was now 32 strong. Kratos spent long hours training them. Lydia had never seen a group of recruits with limited experience molded into a cohesive force so quickly. They grew remarkably proficient with their weapons at an almost alarming rate, though she had to admit that personally training with Kratos everyday had made her into an exponentially more deadly warrior than she had ever been before.

Lydia rose quickly and dressed in her lighter hunting leathers, gathering her bow and quiver but also her blade and shield. At some point in the intervening months she had awoken early and found Kratos meditating before the dawn. By wordless accord she had joined him regularly since then except for when he awoke even earlier and took her hunting. Much like the meditation it seemed to a calming and peaceful thing for him. She had to admit it had allowed her to appreciate the beauty of the wilds more as well. She now looked forward to these mornings, early as they were. With a final check of her gear she went out into the main hall where Kratos was waiting for her. He stood motionless in the shadowy hall, his pale skin making him seem almost ethereal, ghostly even. He had his massive bow in hand, an enormous creation of incredible draw that in the intervening months he had crafted from oak and laminate layers of dragon horn.

They exchanged a silent nod and went directly out the back door of the longhouse. They headed north into the woods and foothills of Skyrim's central mountain range passing by the now walled training field and the recently constructed barracks. Kratos led them miles into the wilderness until he arrived in the general area that he wished to hunt. Lydia never could tell exactly how he decided, and he wasn't forthcoming on the subject either. As per their tradition once they arrived, Kratos gestured Lydia forward to lead the hunt.

She supposed that for some it may be daunting, that Kratos always seemed to be testing people. She was coming to believe that he saw it simply as providing an opportunity to improve. He would always guide and instruct and in her experience when met with failure but effort he had only calm insistence that his student was capable of completing whatever task and capable of completing it well. Lydia, though she too had initially thought it stressful, now found it empowering.

Lydia took the lead, moving softly and with purpose, looking for game sign. They did not walk long before Lydia spotted something. She knelt next to the depressed grasses, where an elk had spent the night and gestured to them. Kratos nodded and pointed to a track in some nearby soft earth. "We are fortunate this morning." he rumbled, almost inaudibly, "It is still close." Lydia flashed a smile and they crept along the trail they had found. Kratos breathed deep the cool morning air, enjoying the scent of dew, damp earth and pine. It was a morning like many others, but it always helped him to remember himself and stay centered.

Soon enough they came to a break in the trees and caught sight of the animal foraging on the far edge of the meadow. Lydia cocked an eyebrow and looked up at him questioningly, gesturing between the two of them. Kratos considered a moment before pointing back at her. She shrugged and drew an arrow from her quiver. It was a fair shot, perhaps a little under 60 yards away. She took a deep steadying breath before drawing the arrow back to her ear and taking careful aim. She waited, poised, until the animal in its foraging took another few steps, turning broadside to them. She loosed and the arrow flew true and struck deep a few inches behind the shoulder. The elk let out a bleat and stumbled, nearly falling before lurching drunkenly a few yards and falling.

Lydia looked up to see Kratos nodding, "Well shot. You have become a fine hunter."

She let a broad smile break across her face, "I've had a good teacher. Shall we?" They set out to the elk and quickly disposed of the viscera. Kratos seized he legs of the animal and was about heave it up onto his shoulders for the journey back when he froze. Lydia instantly set an arrow to her bow and began scanning the trees in his sightline, "Kratos? What is it?"

He straightened abruptly, releasing the elk. "I… do not know precisely." He cocked his head. There was some pressure on his senses, but he couldn't define which one, almost a pleading voice he could hear without ears. Suddenly the decision seemed clear. He turned to Lydia, "Something is wrong. We return immediately. At speed. Come." Kratos took off through the woods at a punishing pace, on a much more direct route than the one they had used to travel in. Lydia was rushing along in his wake, very grateful that she was only wearing leathers and not her full steel armor, though she was concerned about what they would find at the end of this mad dash.

Their trip back took perhaps a quarter of the time and the sun was finally about to break the horizon line when they came pounding out of the foothills and up to the longhouse. As they approached they could see a distraught woman clutching at Thomas and pointing away to the west. Kratos slowed only a few steps before he reached them, his rapid arrival creating a pause in the woman's sobs. His face was thunderous, "What has happened?"

The woman turned to him pleading, "They have taken my Jens! He was coming back from the milking and these strange folk in robes, they just grabbed him! You have to help us!"

Kratos voice was harsh and cold, "Where?"

Thomas answered him, "From his farm, my thane, just outside the town to the west."

Kratos set off at a dead run, "Lydia, with me!"

Lydia felt a renewed surge of energy at his call, despite having just done a brutal run through the hills, "Right behind you!" They quickly cleared the still sleeping town and were soon enough on the main road west to Rorikstead, Markarth and, eventually, Solitude.

It was perhaps three quarters of an hour later that Kratos and Lydia spotted a group of figures on the road before them. The five figures stopped and waited for them as they approached. One of the robed figures stepped forward as they neared and reached up to lower his dark hood.

Kratos approached to speak to the interloper and Lydia hung back a few feet, forcing herself to hold her shoulders back and breathe deeply as she tried to recover sufficiently from the pace of their pursuit. The robed man was a robed mer, a tall golden skinned altmer with long pale hair and permanent sneer that only deepened upon examining Kratos' appearance.

Kratos gave the elf a cursory look and then focused on the bound figure with the other elves. His voice boomed in the stillness, "You are Jens?"

The man nodded frantically before managing to get out a shaky "Yes, thane!"

Kratos let out a snort and returned his focus to the lead elf, his brows drawing together and lip curling, "You have one of _my_ people."

The elf only cocked a brow, "This man is a Talos worshipper. The Thalmor are empowered to root out such worship wherever we find it. Surely even you know that." he replied archly.

"This man has done no crime. Robbed no one. Injured no one."

The Thalmor agent rolled his eyes, "He worships Talos. That is sufficient." His eyes narrowed, "Now go back to your dung heap town before we find more reason to return."

Kratos' lip twitched at that, "I do not care for his religion. You have no proof." His fists clenched, his voice low with threat "What I see are bandits extorting a farmer."

The Thalmor's eyes flashed, his voice raised and heated, "You would threaten us? Justicars in commission of our duty? You would throw Whiterun in with the Talos worshipping Stormcloaks over some peasant? Make no mistake that could bring the war here. And if you fools try this, the war _will _come!" Lydia eyes widened when she saw Kratos' jaw clenching and a vein come into view at his temple, she quickly returned her attention to the elves.

Kratos' breathing had deepened, his hands held as rigid claws, "You come into _my_ hold," he growled, his voice growing progressively louder, "you abduct one of _my_ people," his veins were bulging now, "and you threaten_ me_," he slammed a fist against his chest with enough force to make a couple of the elves jump, "_ME, _with _war?!_" He was screaming at them now, saliva flying from his lips. In a lunge too fast to follow he leapt forward, seized the Thalmor agent and raised him up off the ground, "_I AM WAR!_" And with a horrible wet ripping sound tore the elf in half and threw the ragged blood soaked chunks at the others.

Before anyone could react or shake off their shock, Kratos sprang forward past another elf, but as he passed, he reached out and grasped the elf's face, pulling him off of his feet. As he landed Kratos went down on one knee and in a lightning fast, piston like motion drove the elf's head into the road, shattering it like an immense bloody egg. One of the Thalmor having recovered his wits sufficiently, raised his hands and poured forth a cascade of electricity. It washed over Kratos who ignored it and reaching out grabbed the mage's hands, snarling as the lightning poured over him. The spell ceased and the screams began when Kratos pulped the mage's hands in his grip. Kratos released the mage's ruined hands and unleashed a haymaker that silenced his screams permanently. He looked for his final target only to see Lydia standing over the elf's corpse with her bloody blade.

Kratos shook the gore off of his hands as the scarlet veil over the world dissipated. He took a few deep, calming breaths, letting his eyes drift closed, before focusing on Lydia. "You are well?"

"Unscathed, my thane."

He turned to near abductee, "And you, are you injured?" The man did not speak, only shaking his head in shock, eyes still wide and mouth gaping. "Good. Then we return to Havverfjord." He eyed the dead elves with disgust, "And we will leave this filth to the vultures." He bent and wiped his hands off on a dry portion of one of the Thalmor's robes. He rose and looked back to Lydia and Jens, as she used her dagger to cut the leather thongs he had been bound with. He rubbed furtively at his wrists with trembling hands, his face as pale as milk. His eyes bugged out all over again when he looked over the ruins of the Thalmor, one hand flew to his mouth as he fought the sudden need to vomit.

Jens shaky voice rang out, "No man can do that! Who… what are you?"

Kratos sighed and looked down at the man. "I am your thane. And you are one of my people. I defend my people." But ringing in Jens' ears over and over was the earlier rage-filled cry "I am war!" and on some internal level he instinctively recognized the truth of those words. "Come," Kratos told him, "it is time to return to your wife and children."

"By the Nine! Sylvie! She must be worried sick!" cried Jens rubbing his hands through his hair.

Lydia stepped up and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Then come. Let us go back and show her she has no reason to worry." Kratos turned and they began the walk back to town. This time they set a much gentler pace but soon enough they were walking up the main street.

"Jens!" came a frantic cry from the direction of the longhouse. Sylvie came barreling down the street at a dead sprint and leapt into her husband's arms. Kratos continued up the street past the couple's tear filled reunion and the audience it was drawing.

He looked down at the dried, flaking blood on his hands and forearms, "I need to bathe." Lydia let out a chuckle.

"I understand the feeling, my thane. We had two hunts this morning after all."

Kratos let out an amused snort, "So we did." It was almost anticlimactic to Lydia that after the mad rush and adrenaline of the very early morning that the day fell back into the same simple routine that she had grown accustomed to. Though she did receive via courier the new deep red warpaint for herself and the soldiers to match the colors of their thane. She was somewhat excited for the opportunity to use it, as Kratos was unaware that she and Thomas had placed the order.

After a simple evening meal Thomas approached them, "Thane, housecarl, if I may interrupt there is a matter that I would like to get confirmation on. If you would follow me?" Kratos nodded and Thomas led them into the council room of the longhouse where on the table were laid out six pieces of fabric. "My thane, we are having your banners made, your crest on a pale field, but I need your decision on the proper color for the crest and I have these options which I considered appropriate for you to make your final decision."

Kratos stepped up to the table and examined the swatches of cloth, frowning slightly, "I do not understand. They are all red."

Thomas looked somewhat offended at that and walked up to the table indicating the examples one after another, "Scarlet, Ruby, Cardinal, Garnett, Cherry, Blood." He indicated the yellow tunic he was wearing, "Perhaps this appears red to you as well, my thane?" Kratos and Lydia exchanged a slow glance before looking back to Thomas, who cleared his throat, "I apologize. That was uncalled for. If you would make your selection?" Kratos reached out and tapped one of the swatches without taking his eyes of Thomas. "Ah, Blood. Excellent choice. We will have the banners done in no time. Thank you, my thane."

Thomas made a small bow, collected his color swatches and left quickly. They stood in silence for a moment before Lydia spoke, "At times I forget how strange of a man he is. Sometimes I am reminded." She smiled as Kratos let out the snort that she interpreted as his chuckle.

* * *

The next several days passed fairly uneventfully and Thomas could not have been more pleased. Boring stability was the largest benefit to the town and local economy. Already they were seeing new comers attracted by the almost non-existent tax policy of the holding and the extreme prejudice with which the thane pursued bandits. More traders were beginning to come though as well for the same reasons.

All in all, Thomas was feeling very satisfied with his position now. He was not becoming a wealthy man, but he was in service to a man of honor, if a strange one, and the town was seeing the benefit of their labor. He untied a burlap bundle that had come in this morning and saw that lying in the protective folds were the banners that he had ordered. He had to admit that Thane Kratos' crest on the pale field made for a rather imposing image. He ran a hand absently over the blood red omega on the banner with a smile.

He raised his head, hearing a knock at the door. He gently rewrapped the banner and headed for the front door of the longhouse opening it when he arrived. Standing at the door was a tawny furred Khajit, who immediately made a graceful bow, "This one apologizes for the interruption, but he is Ra'Jahn and would ask to speak with the thane of this holding."

Thomas bowed himself before replying, "I am Thomas, steward to Thane Kratos. What is this regarding?"

"The Khajiti caravan that this one represents would like to trade here in this town. Before we do so we would speak with the thane here. No disrespect is meant to the steward." This was accompanied by another bow of the head at the last sentence.

"Of course. I believe the thane is in the training yard and would be willing to see you." Thomas gestured off to the right, "If you would follow me?" and set out for the training enclosure. As they approached the gate they could see Lydia before the troops leading them in the exercises and routines. Kratos filtered through the ranks, giving direction in a low voice. The entire body of soldiers appeared to Thomas to move in an almost chilling unison. It was almost unsettling to Thomas how quickly Kratos had been able to instill that level of discipline and skill into his house soldiers.

Upon seeing Thomas and his guest Kratos made his way over to them, dispensing correction along the way. He nodded to them both before addressing Thomas, "What is going on?"

"My thane, may I present Ra'Jahn who represents one of the khajiti caravans? He would like to speak with you regarding trade in the holdings." Kratos led them immediate outside of the enclosure.

"Very well. Speak quickly. What is your concern?"

The khajit bowed his head briefly, "This one has found that when trading in a new place it is best to seek permission as in some places we are not welcome."

Kratos simply shrugged, "Follow the laws and you will have no issue."

Ra'Jahn nodded, "And we shall. This one's concern is not for the behavior of his own people. You met one of ours in Whiterun who is called J'Kar." Kratos let out a rumble of understanding.

He turned his head and called over his shoulder, "Lydia!" She quickly called a break in the drill and hurried over to them.

"My thane?"

"My laws apply equally _all_." He rumbled with a jerk of his head to Ra'Jahn.

To Lydia the situation was clear immediately and she nodded, "Understood, Kratos. I will see to it that all of our guardsmen understand as well. Nothing of that sort will go unpunished."

"Good" he replied, turning back to the khajit. "You are satisfied?"

"Very much so. Riddle'Thar and the moon gods keep you for your kindness."

"Wait. If in your travels you see or hear of a unique axe imbued with ice or a pair of burning blades that abruptly appeared, tell me."

Ra'Jahn's ears twitched and the khajit and Lydia exchanged a momentary glance, "We of the caravans hear much and listen closely. This one will tell his people. Should we hear rumor of this we will bring word in thanks for your assistance of J'Kar and your hospitality." The tawny khajit bowed again which Kratos returned with a deep nod.

A slightly confused Thomas interjected, "Excellent. With that resolved why don't we discuss accommodations and market days. By your leave, my thane." Thomas led the caravanner off and they settled into a discussion of local trade.

When they had left, Lydia turned to Kratos an eyebrow raised and hands on her hips, "Appeared abruptly?"

Kratos shot her a brief glance from the corner of his eye as he watched Thomas and Ra'Jahn walk away, "Yes." Lydia raised her brows and gave him a look. He said nothing but she waited expectantly and undeterred. He let out a small growl, "Very well. The weapons are mine. I believe I lost them when I… arrived."

Lydia was excited but forced her face to stay calm, "Arrived from where?"

Kratos turned to face her fully. "I am not of Nirn. I come from a plane beyond this one. As I walked the realm between realms I was pulled here by some force that I believe to be related to the large black dragon that destroyed Helgen. We arrived at the same time. This world is new to me"

Lydia was shocked but at the same time it made more sense than anything given what she had seen. It was clear that he was not simply a man. "What realm are you from?"

"It is called Midgard." He shook his head, gritting his teeth. This would inevitably complicate matters. "Enough of this for now. You have a drill to complete. They have had too long to rest. Work them." He turned to go back to the longhouse but Lydia reached out quickly and caught his arm. Surprised, he looked back at her.

Initially she avoided his eyes, "My thane… Kratos. Whether you are from Skyrim, Tamriel or Midgard, you are worthy of following. You are my thane and have been a mentor and… a friend." She released his arm and looked up at him. Perhaps no one else on this plane of existence would have known, but in his ever-stoic face she saw his eyes soften.

He reached out and placed a hand along her cheek, "You honor me. Thank you." Lydia smiled brightly at him.

"Now, I have some soldiers who have rested too long." Kratos let out a snort as he dropped his hand.

"Then you know what to do." She turned and jogged back to the training enclosure and started barking out orders the instant she passed the gate. Kratos stood for a moment looking after her. Her acceptance and kindness reminded him of Atreus. He shook his head, lost in thought. If only he had had more time with Faye. Would they have had a daughter? He turned back to the longhouse. There was work to be done.

AN:Another chapter in the books. As always please take a minute to leave a review, let me know what you like or specifically what you think could use some work.

A lot of appreciation to those who have reviewed so far. They get kudos for helping provide this quick update.


	7. Chapter 7

Lydia's mind was wandering. The soldiers under her command had no inkling however, as she ran them through complex and brutal drills before splitting them into sparring teams. All in all she was very satisfied with the troops. In fact, she was shocked at the speed with which they had improved, not only the leaps and bounds of difference in their skill with weapons but also their endurance and physical conditioning. Frankly she thought that one for one they were more than a match for any foot soldier in Tamriel, but it was in a group that they truly shone. Kratos had drilled into them that a soldier was only as strong as the man at his side and they took that message to heart and fought as one.

Lydia shook her head, frowning. She did not know what to do with the conclusions she was coming to. Her thane came from a mysterious plane beyond this one. He walked the 'realm between realms.' He was clearly far too strong to be a normal man, and days ago on their hunt… he had known something, long before they had received word. She also remembered an earlier conversation with Irileth before she had been assigned to be Kratos' housecarl. Irileth had told her that when they had fought the dragon she had thought she had seen Kratos miraculously heal.

She knew what you got when you added those things together. A daedra. Or an Aedra she supposed. She shook her head again more violently. It made no sense! But it was the only logical conclusion. _An aedra_ she decided, _if he is one, he is an aedra._ She sighed internally and gave out the command to dismiss. As one, the troops brought closed fists to their hearts in salute before breaking formation and filtering from the yard. Lydia followed after them but headed back to the longhouse. As she did she cast a glance down the main street and saw two guardsmen in Whiterun livery coming up the way.

Lydia stood before the longhouse and waited for them to approach. When they did she hailed them. "I am Lydia, housecarl to the thane of these lands. What news?" The newcomers gave her a similar salute, fist to chest.

"Hail, housecarl." One said, "We come with a message to your thane from Jarl Balgruuf. We were told not to delay."

A pit opened in Lydia's stomach. Given recent events she had an inkling as to the subject if not the precise content of the jarl's message. She nodded to them, "I believe the thane is inside. Come." When they had entered the longhouse she gestured for them to wait in the entryway and went to find Kratos. She found him speaking with Thomas in the council chamber. Kratos straightened immediately when he heard Lydia clear her throat.

"My thane, there are messengers here for you. From Jarl Balgruuf." She saw Thomas' face blanch. Kratos however did not so much as twitch, he simply gave a nod as was his wont and headed to the messengers. Lydia followed along in his wake, filled with trepidation. Her lips did twitch up in a small smile when she saw one of the messengers swallow nervously as Kratos stalked up. Frankly it was difficult for the man to do much of anything and not have it appear somewhat threatening.

"You have a message. Speak."

The Whiterun guards exchanged a momentary glance before one quickly blurted out, "Jarl Balgruuf requests that you attend him in Whiterun. He asks that you come in all haste."

Kratos raised a brow, "A summons. That is all?"

The messenger nodded, "Yes." Kratos' eyes narrowed, "… thane." the man finished lamely.

Kratos let out a snort, "Very well." He turned to address Lydia, "Gather 10 soldiers. We depart in 15 minutes." She nodded and darted away. He looked back to the messengers, "There is food and drink if you wish refreshment but we will not wait for you." Kratos went to his room and snatched up his already packed travel pack, which joined his axe across his back and then returned to Thomas. "We will continue our discussion later. Provide what incentives you can. I want smiths. And there must be ore in the hills and mountains. If you do strike a deal I will ratify it upon my return."

Thomas straightened, encouraged at the trust placed in him. "You can rely on me, my thane."

Soon enough the time had past and Kratos exited the longhouse only to freeze in his tracks at the sight before him. Lydia stood in the thoroughfare, a perfect, if small, formation behind her, above which a pale banner with a blood red omega rippled in the gentle breeze. That alone was something, but Lydia and every one of his soldiers wore deep red war paint in a broad line from hairline to jaw passing over the left eye, in homage to his own tattoos. On seeing him they all struck fists to heart and let out a shout.

He walked slowly down the steps, and Lydia could see the impact the spectacle had had on him. He stopped before her, "We have done well. Here I see true soldiers." He looked over the troops once more before calling out marching orders and setting a brisk pace for Whiterun.

Their trip was uneventful, spending the rest of the day on the road, a night in wilds and arriving at Whiterun around noon on the following day. Kratos and his soldiers moved without challenge through the city until they reached Dragon's Reach. One of the guardsmen stepped forward, clearly expecting their arrival "Hail Thane Kratos. Please enter. We have accommodations set aside for your men and will lead them there presently."

Kratos turned to his troops, "Settle in and rest while you can. We will likely not be staying long." He and Lydia entered the great hall and could see immediately that Jarl Balgruuf was not in his habitual spot at the throne. They had only traversed half the length of the hall when Irileth approached them.

"Thane. Lydia. Be welcome. Jarl Balgruuf is upstairs in his war room and requests your attendance. Please follow me." She turned without waiting for a reply and set off up a nearby staircase leaving Kratos and Lydia to follow after. They ascended another flight of stairs before heading down a short hallway to the war room. Irileth opened the door for them and waved them in before following and closing the door after her. Inside was a large table with a map of Skyrim spread across it. The jarl and Aventus Avenicci his adviser stood next to it, speaking in low tones and examining the map.

Jarl Balgruuf looked up immediately, "Ah, there he is. You can't help yourself can you? Do you have any idea about the ramifications of what you have done?" Kratos cocked his head.

"And what have I done?"

Jarl Balgruuf let out an exasperated noise, "What have you – You killed four Thalmor justicars! What else could I be talking about!?"

Kratos shrugged, which seemed to frustrate the jarl even more, before replying, "They will do nothing."

"Oh? And you're sure of that are you?"

"Yes."

Balgruuf threw up his hands, "And why would they do nothing when you killed four of theirs? Though obliterated may be more accurate given what I heard about the condition of the bodies…"

"They abducted one of my people. I confronted them. They leveled an accusation and I requested proof. Then they threatened both my person and my people." Kratos growled out, "They took one of mine, with no cause, under threat of violence. That makes them bandits. The punishment in my hold for banditry is death."

Balgruuf stood in silence for a time rubbing at his forehead. "I can work with this. They lost their standing, acted illegally, were punished." He chuckled, "And I do love to see those bastards put in their place." His face grew serious again, "I can't say if they know what happened to those justicars yet, but they will put it together. They don't have proof and if they do come, your explanation may work, but they will be watching you after this. They won't be sloppy."

Kratos bared his teeth, "I have seen their ilk. If they try, they will die. And they will not take my people."

The jarl nodded, "For that final sentiment at least I commend you." He sighed deeply, "Do try not to complicate my political position."

"I have seen the preacher in front of your hall. Your position _is_ clear and I followed it." Balgruuf sighed and rubbed at his face.

"Your point is well taken, thane." He let out a sigh, "But perhaps try to avoid another diplomatic nightmare for a time?"

Kratos nodded and crossed his arms, "I will not seek one out."

Balgruuf gave him a nod, "I suppose that's the best I can hope for." He straightened, "Thank you for your prompt attendance. I did not wish to put this matter in writing and risk its interception. The Thalmor seem to have a talent for ferreting out secrets. My business is concluded unless you have else to discuss."

Kratos simply shook his head, "I do not. Be well." With a final nod to the jarl he took his leave and left the room. As they headed back towards the main hall, Lydia looked to him and asked, "What are your plans now, my thane? Shall we return immediately?"

Kratos let out a thoughtful rumble before answering, "No. First we shall see to a drink."

Lydia shot him a grin, "An excellent idea." They quickly left Dragon's Reach and trudged down the steps, through the posh Cloud District of Whiterun to the inn. Kratos ducked through the door into the common room, Lydia following after him, and quickly selected a table. The room was quite crowded as many were there for their midday meal.

A serving girl quickly bustled up to them, "Ah it's you again!" Kratos looked up to the see the same barmaid, whose name he could not quite recall. "It's nice to see you again. And what will you both be having?"

"Wine." He murmured ignoring Lydia's inquiring expression.

Lydia turned her attention to the girl, "And I will have mead. Thank you." The barmaid gave them a smile and hurried off. Once she had gone, Lydia turned back to Kratos with a small grin on her face, "Nice to see you again? I didn't think you were in Whiterun long." Kratos merely grunted. Lydia's grin widened fractionally. "Must have made an impression."

Kratos gave her a look that would have been intimidating to anyone else, "Are you finished?"

Lydia's smile spread, "I was just surprised that you are so well received by the young barmaid."

Kratos let out a rumble, "Nothing of the kind." They fell silent as Asta, the barmaid, returned and set their drinks down.

She paused for a moment; "I didn't have a chance to thank you… so, well… Thank you!" She looked away as someone called her name. She gave them a little wave and rushed off again into the hectic room.

Kratos let out a heavy breath at Lydia's cocked brow, "She had unwanted attention. I intervened."

Lydia shrugged and gave him another little grin, "I assumed as much. Nothing else made sense." Kratos leaned back and sipped at his wine, savoring the flavor. They relaxed in companionable silence for a time, each slowly working through their respective tankards. Kratos' eyes abruptly narrowed, as he seemed to hear something, a whisper at his ear as if someone had said his name. It seemed to have come from a nearby table, he focused in on their conversation; "… some kind of daedric artifact. It must be. A strange axe covered in mysterious symbols and strange enchantments? That sure sounds daedric to me."

Kratos immediately stood from the table and approached to the two men. He loomed over them, "You are discussing an axe. Where? Where is it?" It was a vague description in an overheard conversation, but he knew somehow that it was his.

One of the men made an annoyed scoff, "Hey listen buddy…" he trailed off when he looked up to see Kratos. He swallowed, "Uh, my apologies, thane. Yes, the axe. I don't know really. I just heard this rumor about it while I was in Windhelm. Some bandit warlord in Eastmarch claiming he had an axe that was the favor of a new daedric prince." The man raised his hands defensively, "That's all I heard." Kratos narrowed his eyes and waited, staring at the man. "Swear on the Nine that's all I know!"

Kratos let out a grunt, pulled a few coins from his belt and placed them on the table, "For another round. My thanks." Just as abruptly he turned and went back to his own table. Lydia who had followed him over and waited a few steps behind, eyed him as they sat back down. Kratos immediately drained his remaining wine and fell silent staring off into the middle distance.

After a few moments she burst out, "Well? What's going on, my thane? I almost expected there to be a brawl from how you leapt over there."

Kratos' eyes refocused on Lydia. "There is word of my axe. Some petty bandit lord has it." His eyes narrowed again and he growled out through clenched teeth, "I want it _back._" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, when he opened them again the rage that had momentarily clouded his face was gone. "Go. Gather the troops and acquire supplies. We are departing for Windhelm immediately."

Lydia rose and saluted, fist to heart. "Yes, thane. We will assemble at the gate in all haste." She immediately set off, pushing through the crowded common room. Kratos sat at the table for a few more minutes thinking. Some degenerate had his axe. Some degenerate had _Faye's_ axe! His fists clenched unconsciously. This was not to be born. It was an affront to her memory and all that she was! He paused a moment shaking his thoughts loose, focusing on his memories of her and Atreus, breathing slowly and deeply until his hands loosed and the red tide receded. He stood then and laid a few coins on the table for their drinks, before leaving the inn. He didn't notice, but he did not have to push his way through as the crowd melted away before him.

Kratos stalked through Whiterun in silence, lost in his own thoughts. He waited for his troops, leaning against one of the porch posts of Warmaiden's, one of Whiterun's blacksmiths. He did not see Adrienne Avenici eye him occasionally as she worked at the forge. Soon Lydia and the rest of his soldiers came jogging down the thoroughfare, stopping when they reached him. Kratos pushed off of the post, shaking off the clinging thoughts. "We are supplied?"

Lydia nodded to him, "Yes, thane."

"Then we go."

* * *

The journey to Windhelm was for the most part uneventful. To Lydia's eyes it seemed that the news of his axe being in hands other than his own had made Kratos' temper somewhat shorter. This was not to imply that he was snapping at her or the troops, but she could sense it. On the second day they came across an old tower and bridge across the White River, which paralleled the road to Windhelm. As they passed by Kratos' sharp eyes had spotted signs of life and bandit activity. They swept through Valtheim Towers, as the construction was called, like a whirlwind. To Lydia it seemed almost like an excuse to hit something with clear moral justification.

The remainder of the trek was uneventful if difficult in its own way. Kratos set a hard pace, obviously impatient to retrieve this axe from his home realm. To Lydia this only strengthened the sense that he was much more akin to the aedra and daedra. There was little _more_ daedric than one of the princes sending out or retrieving one of their imbued items.

There was a cold wind blowing when the party arrived at the gates of Windhelm. Lydia and the other nords were quite resilient and well accustomed to Skyrim's harsher climate, but she was still astounded by how Kratos was able to go about with most of his torso exposed without the slightest hint of discomfort. Kratos eyed the forbidding grey walls and broad gates of the city with a hint of approval. This was a much more fortified city than Whiterun.

They could see one of the gate guards send a message as they made their final approach towards the open portal. One of the guardsmen stepped forward and hailed them, "Hold! Identify yourselves and state your business in Windhelm."

Kratos simply narrowed his eyes at the man in annoyance, but Lydia stepped forward, "We are the party of Thane Kratos of Whiterun. We are planning to rest in Windhelm before continuing our journey."

The guard nodded, "And the duration of your stay?"

"One or two days."

Another man in Windhelm colors approached the guard and whispered something to him. He turned back to them, "Welcome to Windhelm. We apologize for the delay, but we must have a care with parties traveling under arms."

Lydia gave them a nod and they continued into the city. "My thane, if we are seeking information, I suggest Candlehearth Hall. It is a small inn off the main square and a local favorite. I will take the men to a lodging house I know and return to meet you there if that is acceptable?" At Kratos' nod, Lydia called out a few orders and led their soldiers off.

Kratos gazed out at the forbidding stone city as a chill wind whipped through the streets. It was altogether a much greyer and unwelcoming place than Whiterun and thin drifts of blown snow caught up against walls and corners. Kratos set off deeper into Windhelm, making for the main square he saw before him. No sooner had he entered the plaza, he heard raised voices coming from a small group of men surrounding someone. It was nearly in his path and with an infinitesimal sigh he set off. Kratos heard the increasing volume and belligerence of the indistinct voices. The other occasional passersby were giving them a wide berth and purposefully ignoring the commotion.

In the center of the ring of men was a harried and frightened looking dark elf woman. Then as he neared, Kratos heard clearly one of the threatening voices, "Maybe we pay you a visit tonight, little spy… We have ways of finding out what you really are." He could see the woman's terrified face and one of the men had her by the wrist. Seeing this, Kratos' countenance clouded over and grew thunderous.

In a few long, swift strides Kratos had reached the encircling thugs, looming over the man holding the elf's wrist. "Let go." he grated out through clenched teeth. "Now." Many faces turned to look at him in shock, the elf's among them.

The man with the grip recovered from his surprise, "You should leave here, stranger. This isn't your business. And the damn grey-skins deserve it anyway."

Kratos' lip curled in disgust, "I will not tell you again. Release her."

One of the other men, a large fellow, stepped up to Kratos and gave him a completely ineffectual shove, "Get out of before we decide to give you the same as –" He was cut off as Kratos' forehead smashed into his face with a spray of blood, laying the man out, spread eagle on the flagstones. Everyone froze in shock, staring down at the now unconscious man.

The moment was shattered when Kratos' hand shot out grabbed his original target's neck. The man immediately released the dark elf, both of his hands scrabbling uselessly at Kratos' single iron grip. The man was gasping and choking as Kratos restricted but did not completely cut off his airway. With a cry the three other men moved to attack.

Kratos threw the man he had by the neck down at the legs of the nearest assailant, tangling up both of them and causing him to trip. Another one of his attackers threw a wild haymaker at him and rather than dodge, Kratos let loose a quick jab and punched the incoming fist. The man screamed as his punch connected with Kratos' impossibly hard fist, and he stumbled backwards, cursing and clutching at his hand. Kratos shot out a kick at the last standing combatant, striking the man's lead thigh as he stepped forward, the moment before he put weight on it, catapulting the leg behind him and sending the man face-first into the ground.

"Fools!" Kratos spat, looking at the groaning pile of beaten men and shaking his head. He turned to the dark elf woman who was standing there covering her mouth with her hands in shock. "You are uninjured?" She nodded to him hesitantly. "That is good." His eyes narrowed momentarily as he shot a glance at the battered men who were slowly dragging themselves up and away from him. "Is this normal?" he asked, gesturing to the would be attackers.

A short nervous laugh burst out of her, "This? No, this is new." She grew more serious, "Those 'true sons of Skyrim' harassing any dark elf they see? That happens any time they get a few drinks in them. So at least daily." She sighed, "It's not just them. It's this whole rotten city." She looked back to her rescuer, who merely let out a small grunt.

"Leave." He told her with a small shrug.

She shrank under his gaze, "E-Excuse me?"

"Leave this city. If there is no opportunity, only harassment, then leave." He shrugged again, "It is simple. Stay and have nothing. Go and have a chance." She looked down considering his words.

"I am Suvaris. Thank you." She blurted with a smile.

He gave her a nod, "Kratos." He cocked his head minutely hearing footsteps approaching at a run. He turned to see several guardsmen converging on the scene. Seeing that the business, whatever it was, had concluded, they approached more slowly.

The lead guard called out as he approached, "What happened here?" and examined Kratos carefully.

Kratos looked down at him, "I am thane to Jarl Balgruuf." Suvaris' eyes bugged out a bit at that. "These men began a fight. But they will recover."

The guard looked at him in disbelief, "You put down five men?"

"It's true," Suvaris interjected, pointing to one of the men "He shoved the – uh – the thane and then…" she gestured broadly to the current condition of the attackers.

One of the men spoke up, still cradling his hand and wrist, "Yeah, but he didn't have to do that for a shove!"

The guard nodded, "So they did start it." He shrugged, "Good enough for me," and turned to Kratos, "Thane, please try to stay out of trouble in Windhelm. I don't want to deal with the complications of trying to jail another hold's thane." Kratos nodded to the man and set off across the square towards Candlehearth Hall, leaving the guards to gather the fools up off the flagstones.

Soon enough Kratos was seated at the bar of the inn with a flask of wine in his hand. He sat drinking in silence for a few minutes before flagging down the innkeeper with a wave of his hand. "Yes, sir? Can I get you anything else?" she asked, polishing a tankard as she did so.

"Yes. Information. I have heard there is a bandit chief in the hold with a strange axe. Do you know something of this?"

The woman's eyebrows raised in surprise, "Another one, eh? Some Vigilants of Stendarr came through a few days ago and were asking after the same thing." Her brow furrowed, "Though I'd call them as much a cult as bandits. They claim to follow some new and unknown daedric prince from what I've heard. Load of hogwash if you ask me."

"Where are they?" he prodded.

"Ah, yes. The attacks have all been taking place in central Eastmarch. Guardsmen think that they have their hole somewhere in the hills southeast of Kynesgrove."

Kratos nodded to her, "My thanks. Another flask, please." The innkeeper gave a quick smile and set off to fetch it and see to her other customers. After another minute or two Lydia came and took the seat next to him.

"Any luck, my thane?" she asked, eyeing the bottles behind the bar.

He replied, keeping his eyes forward and folded his arms as he sat back. "We are not the only ones seeking the group which has my axe. The Vigilants of Stendarr hunt them as well."

Lydia turned to look at him, brow furrowed in confusion, "Vigilants? Why are they after bandits? They only deal with deadra worshippers." She paused, looking up in thought, "And vampires, I suppose. In any case, not bandits."

"We were misinformed. They appear to be as much a cult as they are robbers."

Lydia frowned, "My thane, this could complicate matters. If they believe that your axe is linked to the daedra…" Not that she was entirely convinced that it wasn't. Or that she wasn't sitting next to one, in fact.

Kratos let out a low rumble, "We will deal with that if we must. Today's trouble sufficeth me." He turned to look back at her, "They are likely near a town called Kynesgrove. We will rest and resupply tonight and set off in the morning." The ghost of a smile whispered across his face, "You have done well with the troops. Get some sleep, girl."

* * *

AN: Thank you to all those who review, you keep the updates coming.

Special thank you also to the anonymous reviewers, who I can't thank individually as well as all those who have favorited or followed.

Another chapter in the books!


	8. Chapter 8

Kratos and his troops set off early in the morning. As always he set a hard pace as they made their way in the direction of Kynesgrove. The time passed uneventfully and the well-maintained roads close to Windhelm eased the initial portion of their march. They continued for the entire day, taking only brief breaks and often eating on the move, as they hoped to reach Kynesgrove some 45 miles distant before the sun went down.

They approached the town with the sun still above the horizon. Kratos slowed their pace as they passed into the village proper. They drew some worried glances from the citizenry as they passed. People cleared the street and many hurried inside unsure of who they were and unfamiliar with the strange red symbol and the red war paint on their faces. Kratos quickly spied the sign for the Braidwood Inn, which he had learned of in Windhelm. He led his men up to the inn and then turned to face them.

"We set a fair pace today. We will rest tonight and begin our proper hunt for the renegades tomorrow." He paused briefly before continuing, "Here we will have no incidents. Follow." With that Kratos led the way into the inn, his troops conversing in low tones as they entered. There were a fair amount of people in the common room; conversations drifted off and tankards paused in their journey as Kratos and his party came into the inn. Kratos immediately approached the woman behind the bar, "This is your establishment?"

The woman nodded slowly, eyeing him and his soldiers, "Aye, I am Iddra and this is my inn."

"We require lodging. And food." He glanced down to his right where Lydia had taken up her customary place.

"Well, we can certainly arrange for that. What exactly would you like?"

Kratos let out a small grunt and turned to Lydia, who, after a quick glance at him, smoothly stepped in. "We can work out the details." Kratos nodded to her in thanks and went and sat down at one of the long tables. He almost did not notice and certainly did not care when they only other person sitting at the table, after a few surreptitious glances in his direction decided that they should sit elsewhere. The noise in the common room slowly increased again, Kratos' soldiers barely adding to it, as they spoke in low voices to avoid spooking the locals.

Kratos sat at the table in silence. He could almost feel… something. It was as if there was some menacing presence or someone was watching him. He could feel it prickling at the edges of his awareness and the sensation was growing stronger. He closed his eyes and followed his meditative breathing routine, focusing on this feeling, seeking to understand it.

While he was thus occupied, Lydia having made her arrangements with the proprietress of the inn came and sat next to him. She did _not_ let out a satisfied noise as she sat down, despite the long march and the changes in elevation it had entailed. She let out a tiny sigh; she certainly was tired. It was good that they could use Kynesgrove as a staging area. Another night's sleep in a bed would be good for all of them. Except for Kratos. She was convinced that he could sleep on broken glass and be completely unfazed.

She turned to look at him, now noting his breathing pattern, "My thane, is something amiss?" He opened his eyes slowly and looked at her.

After a few moments he murmured, "I do not know. I can sense… something. I know not what." He trailed off into silence.

Lydia was quiet for a moment as well. Perhaps it was simply that he was in close proximity to too many people, she knew that he preferred the solitude and silence of the wilds. "Perhaps it would help to step out and take the air?" Kratos was quiet for a moment before nodding to her. He stood and proceeded to leave with Lydia in his wake. As they passed, most of their soldiers heads shot up and tracked them. Lydia held out a hand and gently lowered it when several of them began to rise, prompting them to slowly sit back down.

Kratos and Lydia stepped out into the evening; the sun was dipping near to the horizon now. Kratos felt more at ease, but the sense of presence was still there. He took a deep breath and focused on it, narrowing it in his mind to something… directional. Lydia looked quizzically after him as he began walking east, she took a deep breath and started after him on tired legs.

Kratos stopped and turned to her. "I do not know what is here. But I feel I should seek it." She nodded to him. "You may go and rest if you wish."

Lydia's brows drew down into a quick frown and she shook her head, "No, my thane. I will follow you. I have faith in your impressions."

Kratos' face eased imperceptibly, "Good. Then come." Kratos set off again, much faster this time, heading straight into the wild and wooded foothills to the east of the village. Lydia followed without hesitation, not noticing at first that it was if her fatigue had been wiped away, keeping pace with her thane. Kratos felt an increasing sense of urgency and stepped up his pace has the sun finally set leaving everything painted in the bright grey twilight hour.

At the upper edge of his periphery, Kratos saw movement- a dragon was sweeping down. He recognized instantly it's jet-black hide and jagged horns and his lips drew slowly back in a snarl as he lost sight of the beast through the trees. He could still sense the direction though, that same pressure had drawn him from the inn earlier. He and Lydia pounded forward through the thinning forest towards what they believed to be the dragon's destination.

Up ahead they heard an enormous voice toll out like a bell of untold depth and the earth over which they ran began to tremble slightly. Kratos continued heedless of the sound and rumble. Only a few minutes later they burst from the trees into a clearing. Before them was an enormous dragon skeleton that appeared to have just clawed its way out of the earth. It was shaking loose dirt and stones off of itself as veins, muscle and flesh began to stretch across the bones, reaching from nowhere to reanimate the beast. The great black dragon hovered over the clearing, the blasts of wind from his gargantuan wings flattening the grass below him. The black dragon was speaking in an unknown tongue and its shimmering red eyes glared down at a defiant figure below him who stood yelling back, a war axe in each fist.

At the incredible sight before her, Lydia slowed, jaw dropping open, awed by what she saw. Kratos instead let out a bark of anger and blurred forward, feet slamming into the earth like iron pistons. He approached the partially reformed dragon on the ground from the side and leapt, legs surging, sailing an incredible distance through the air and landed on the dragon's back. His massive legs flexed again, hurling him skyward in an impossible arc as he used the semi-skeletal dragon as a springboard to launch himself.

Kratos heard Lydia call is name in shock and the wind ripping past his ears as he rocketed up through the air. He whipped his axe off his back and raised it above and behind his head, soaring through the sky, entire body arched in preparation for a titanic blow. The dragon reacted instantly however and with an enormous beat of its inky, clawed wings it shot up higher. Kratos saw it open its cottage-sized gaping, fanged maw and roared back his own defiance as the dragon spoke, "_FUS RO DAH_!

* * *

Sigrunn was not having a particularly good day, or even a particularly good week. She simply hadn't been sleeping well, not that this was now particularly high on her list of reasons why she was not enjoying today. The first spot on that list was currently occupied by the colossal black dragon that was hovering above her, second place went to the still partially skeletal dragon clawing its way out of the ground, and third went to the woman hiding off to her right in the bushes. Unlike reasons one and two, Delphine wasn't trying to kill her. She was just a massive bitch.

Sigrunn stood tall beneath the beating wings of the great black dragon, the buffets of air causing the loose braid she held long golden hair in to whip about behind her. She turned her head sharply and saw a man come sprinting out of the woods unbelievably fast and then – "Dibella's tits!" she burst out, as the man jumped onto the recently dead dragon's back and then exploded off of it and launched himself at the black terror in the sky above her. For a moment she believed that she was about to witness something truly miraculous, before the man was hurled back to earth by the great dragon's shout.

She winced at the thunderous sound of the man's meteoric impact and also heard a cry of rage from the direction he had originally come. She was more concerned though by the next words the beast spoke before flying off into the night, "Sahlokniir, kill them, then return to me." _Right. Back to business._ Her lips drew back from her teeth in a snarl and she whirled to face the threat fully. Frustrated with herself for allowing the strangeness of the situation to paralyze her, she burst into action.

She focused her mind and dragon soul and spoke, imposing her will on reality, "_Wuld!"_ She shot forward in a blur, ending her rush in a spinning leap that brought her war axes blasting into the neck of the still disoriented dragon with all the force of her thu'um powered charge. The impact threatened to tear the weapons from her grip, but she managed to retain them as the dragon lurched back in pain. Sigrunn took advantage of the opportunity to take a breath and bark out "_Su Grah Dun!"_ She smiled as the shout took hold, speeding her limbs and giving her reflexes supernatural quickness. She leapt forward, a cyclone of whirling metals chewing into the dragon's neck and shoulder.

Sigrunn dove to the side to avoid a wild swipe of Sahloknir's talons, instantly rolling to her feet. She looked up to see that the dragon had reared up and was looking down at her from the top of its lengthy neck. She sprinted to the side as the beast let out a screech and blast of flame. Only a quick shout carried her away quick enough to avoid any more than some charring of one of the sleeves of her scale armor. Sahloknir's massive head dove down for her, toothy maw gaping wide. She spun away at the last instant, still empowered by her thu'um, and layed open a couple new gashes in reply.

She heard a woman's scream of rage come hurtling in and saw an unfamiliar figure in steel armor come charging in from the side, her sword set almost like a lance as she slammed into the dragon's side. Sahloknir's head reared back and he spun to attack this new threat. Sigrunn grinned at the distraction and moved to attack before she realized her error. Her eyes widened as she caught the dragon's tail tip in her peripheral vision and dove immediate to the side, which was all that saved her. It was only a glancing blow, but it struck her with immense force, caught at her armor and hurled her through the air. She hit the ground hard, air exploding from her lungs. She immediately lunged to her feet again, only for a leg to give out and fall to her knees again. Using one axe to push herself back to her feet she jogged back towards the fight.

A sudden roar made Sigrunn stumble in surprise. Turning she saw the same pale man come pounding towards the dragon. He rushed in, ducking beneath a swinging talon and slammed his axe into the dragon's neck where it stuck. He released the axe to dodge a frantic flurry of swings from the beast's talons. The beast's attention was locked on the ashen-skinned crazy man, so Sigrunn circled slightly to come back in from the side and increased her pace.

The dragon struck like a snake, snapping at the man, who – did he just step to the side and _punch_ a dragon? – the force of the blow rocked the dragon's head to the side and she could _hear_ the meaty thump of his fist slamming into it. He landed another punch but then jumped to the side as the dragon unleashed another gout of flame. Sigrunn ran and slid under the beast's wing, coming back up to her feet near where the man's axe was stuck in the dragon's neck, like a lumberjack's axe embedded in a too large tree. Her focus narrowed to the axe itself, to the exclusion of almost all else. She felt that power within her swell, begging her to speak, command creation, and change reality with will and word. She took a deep breath and shouted, her thu'um tearing out of her throat, her human form barely able to contain it. "_FUS RO DAH"_

The close blast of force caught the axe stuck in the beast and rammed it through the dragon's neck, sending it flying free, leaving trails of gore in its wake. The dragon tried to scream but only managed a spluttering gurgle from the rent in its neck. It began to thrash wildly, splattering blood across the meadow in swaths. Sigrunn immediately fell back, content to let the beast bleed to death. She saw the pale man retreat as well, joined shortly by the woman she saw enter the battle earlier. After a few more spattering wheezes and moments of panicked thrashing the dragon finally lay still in the blood churned field.

Sigrunn waited, breathing deeply, for what she knew was about to come. The dragon seemed to glow as if lit by an internal flame. Its hide and flesh began to slowly flake away and float into the air like fine particles of ash, before, in a rush, the flesh was consumed in the same manner but that internal glow rushed out and enveloped Sigrunn. Her hair blew in an eldritch wind and she felt a rush power, her fatigue wiped away, her mind clear, as if reality itself had somehow been slightly out of focus before, but now she could experience it properly. The light went as quickly as it came, leaving only the bones behind, alone once more.

Kratos placed a hand on Lydia's shoulder, "You are well?"

She nodded quickly, "Yes, thane. But you, are you alright? When that dragon – I, I was – " She trailed off when he raised his other hand slightly.

"I am fine. Death is inconvenient. I do not plan to repeat it." He gave her shoulder a tiny squeeze and went to fetch his axe, leaving Lydia staring after him, mouth agape. Kratos walked across the field of blood spattered, trampled grass in an unerring line precisely to where his axe landed. He retrieved it quickly, giving several abrupt shakes to cast off some of the mud and blood. He turned and went back towards the blonde woman. She stood, arms crossed, as a shorter, smaller and older brunette woman with a sour face spoke to her. He saw her eyes mark him as he approached.

Kratos ignored the uninteresting one, "You. What do you know of the black dragon?"

She turned to him and cocked an eyebrow, as she looked up at him, "The big bastard? Well, he apparently can raise other dragons from the dead. Now who are you and how are you not dead? I saw that hit you took. You should be dead, not running about punching dragons." She threw a hand in the air, "You _punched_ a dragon!"

Kratos was silent for a moment, "The dragon. What else do you know?"

The sour woman interjected then, "Say nothing. We don't know who they are or who they might be working for."

Kratos' gaze fell upon her and his eyes narrowed. He did not so much as twitch a muscle, but she took a small step back, her hand tightening on the grip of her sheathed sword.

Sigrunn rolled emerald eyes before looking over at her, "Come off it, Delphine." The woman let out a hiss when Sigrunn used her real name. Sigrunn turned back to Kratos, "We don't know. We came here following a hunch trying to learn more about the dragons. Now you know what we do." Kratos let out a grunt and said nothing. Sigrunn glanced at Lydia who had joined Kratos in the interim, before looking back to him, "I am Sigrunn. It was a pleasure to fight alongside you both."

Kratos let out a low rumble, "I am Kratos. She is Lydia." He paused before continuing, "What occurred at the dragon's death?"

Sigrunn shrugged before answering, "I am not entirely certain. I am dragonborn. I absorb some sort of energy or life force from defeated dragons." She rubbed at the back of her neck, "Some say it is the dragon's souls I take. Whatever it is though, I feel the stronger for it"

Kratos grunted, "Then what it is, is irrelevant." He scratched at his beard, "I too am seeking information about the great black dragon. I propose that we pool information."

Sigrunn's green eyes narrowed, "I don't even know who you are." She relaxed some, shifting her weight to one hip, "But you did help me here. I'll ask around about you and send word if we accept."

Kratos nodded, "Acceptable. Then we are done here." He turned back to Lydia, "Come. We are going."

She ducked her head briefly, "Yes, thane." Kratos set off immediately with Lydia following after. They set a slower pace on the way back towards Kynesgrove, walking through the darkening woods and crisp alpine air of Eastmarch. They travelled for a time in silence before Lydia broke it, "Kratos… what did you mean you do not plan to repeat death?" Lydia thought she saw his shoulders stiffen, but it may have simply been a trick of the failing light. She waited for a time, walking in silence, growing more convinced that he would not answer her.

His rough voice startled her when it cut through the dark trees, "I meant what I said. Death is not pleasant." Now it was her turn to be quiet as she processed that. As impossible as it sounded she was quite certain he was speaking literally. He was not a man given to metaphor or hyperbole. But this? It seemed like a mad trick of Sheogorath. They continued on their way, the only sounds to occasional snap of a fallen twig beneath their boots.

"Then you… have died?"

He nodded, "Twice. Yes." She saw his hand come up to gently touch the large scar in the center of his abdomen. Lydia stumbled, jaw dropping open, before shaking her head and trying to get a hold of herself.

"I have seen you fight. And you just shrugged off that dragon's shout. Who could possibly have beaten you, let alone killed you?" Kratos let out a small snort, the kind that Lydia now equated with what would have been a chuckle from anyone else. His face suddenly seemed even more somber that usual.

"Both a god and my father."

Lydia stopped dead, "By the Nine!" Kratos stopped and turned back to look at her. "How are you alive?"

"I found death did not suit me, so I came back."

Lydia swallowed, "And this god… and your fa–"

"Dead" he grated out. "By my hand." His face was black with anger, "Just as he slew his father before him." She said nothing, examining his face. His countenance clouded further and his lips drew back in a silent snarl, "This" he said, striking his own chest, "is who you follow, girl." He took a pace towards her, "A kinslayer!" he spat, his voice increasing in volume, "A twice-dead and bloody god cast from his home!" Lydia's eyes widened, she knew it! She knew he was an aedra! She remembered the portentous weight of his cry 'I AM WAR!' and began realize the full depth of that declaration. Kratos took another step forward, hands flexed and clenching at air; he was nearly shouting, "I bring destruction and death!"

Lydia took the final step forward and squared up to the titan before her. "Enough!" she cried, with a chop of her hand, "Enough!" She pointed a finger at him, "_I_ will tell you what you have brought! You have brought new life to Havverfjord. You have defended Whiterun hold and its people! For all of your self-recrimination I have never seen you turn away from someone helpless or in need. You are strong and grim and _fair._" Her voice softened, "I have said this before, but perhaps now you will believe me. I do not know who or what you were before, but I have seen who you are. If you are a bloody god, then I am your red right hand!"

The stood like that for a time, both poised and tense, eyes locked before Kratos seemed to deflate. He stepped away and sat on a nearby fallen log, resting his elbows on his knees and staring out into the darkness that had blanketed the world. After a moment, Lydia followed and rested a hand on his shoulder, before quietly asking, "Are you really a god?"

"I am, girl." He let out a soft snort of amusement, turned his head and looked up at her, "And you are my red right hand."

She smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze, before letting go. "Well then. Your right hand is hungry. It has been a day." Perhaps as shocking as learning of his divinity was the short bark of a laugh he let out.

"Very well." He said, standing, "it is past time we were back at the village." They set off again through the dark trees in a comfortable silence.

"Does this mean I need to start saying 'By the Ten?'"

"Please do not."

* * *

Soon enough they could see the lights of Kynesgrove peaking between the black trees. They were nearing the town when Kratos raised his fist as a sign to halt. He waited a moment feeling eyes on them before a figure with a drawn bow stepped out of the shadows. Kratos and Lydia instantly relaxed, recognizing one of their soldiers.

"Thane, housecarl, welcome back." The sentry let out a whistled signal, "We saw you leave and not knowing what prompted your departure, decided to put out a watch."

Kratos nodded to him, "I commend your preparation."

"We are still packed and prepared, thane. Do we move tonight?" His eyes shone earnestly in the light of the newly risen moon.

Kratos shook his head, "No. We stay here tonight. What danger there was has passed." Two more sentries came rippling out of the shadowed undergrowth to join them. Kratos closed his eyes for a moment and extended his senses, not focusing on hearing but on something else, almost a feeling. After a moment he opened his eyes again. "We will not be bothered. Go in with the others. I would have all of us be sufficiently rested for the hunt tomorrow." He had felt it. The axe. Just brushing the edge of his perception. He could not call to it. Perhaps being pulled into this realm had frayed his connection to the Leviathan Axe. He exhaled slowly and hoped that proximity would repair that link once he found it.

Kratos went down into the town, Lydia and the sentries following after him. He returned to the inn and noticed almost everyone inside start when the door opened. Slowly conversation resumed as Kratos and the others settled. Kratos returned and sat again at the bar. The innkeeper swept up to him, "Did you see anything out there? We heard an awful commotion, and… Well you know. These days you can't be too careful with all the strange happenings. Cultists on the ground, dragons in the sky and civil war all around."

Kratos paused briefly before replying, "No. You have no cause for concern." The innkeeper gave him a nod of thanks and bustled off. He sat for a moment more before turning to Lydia and saying, "I am retiring for the night." He glanced at the soldiers who were joking with each other over tankards of mead, "Don't let them do anything foolish." Lydia murmured her assent and he stood to leave. It had been a long enough day.

AN: A big thank you to all those who reviewed. I really appreciate the feedback. Apologies to the Guest reviewers that I can't reply to directly. Sorry, guys you have to make do with a general thank you.


	9. Chapter 9

Kratos stepped out of the inn the next morning to find that Lydia had already formed up the troops. He approached and quickly looked them over, nodding briefly to Lydia to signal his satisfaction. "Good. Now we hunt." They set off immediately taking the road leading south, which would eventually lead them to Riften if followed long enough.

Kratos and Lydia led them down the path in a double column moving at fair pace. The morning was pleasant and cool. Their breath steamed as they trekked further from Kynesgrove and the next several hours passed quietly as they had made good time. Kratos began to notice a feeling, a sense of something that he couldn't quite describe, that pressure on the edge of his awareness. He turned to face Lydia, "Be vigilant."

She cocked a questioning eyebrow at him, "Yes, my thane. Did you hear something?"

He shook his head, "No. But I know." She gave him a slow nod of understanding and then began to eye their surroundings with even greater attention. They continued along down the track for a time, all the while Kratos' battlefield sense grew stronger. Abruptly he raised a fist, halting the company in its tracks. He took several steps forward alone and dropped to one knee examining the stretch of road before him more closely. He waved Lydia forward, "Here." She approached cautiously and crouched next to him. Kratos brushed aside some loose dirt to reveal a patch of earth, which was stained a darker shade. "An attack happened here. Search the east side of the road for their trail." Lydia nodded to him and stood, walking back to the assembled men.

Lydia stopped before them, "Algar, Bron, Eyja." The three stepped forward, a slim dark haired Nord of medium height, a stocky Breton man, and a tall Nord woman with a short honey colored bob cut. "The cultists stuck along this path of road. Search the eastern side for their trail. We will hold nearby to not foul the trail. Be cautious and call at the first sign of danger. They may have left sentries in the area." The three scouts drew their bows and set off immediately into the woods. Lydia looked over her shoulder at Kratos who was still crouched down over the road, head bowed, touching it lightly with extended fingertips. She turned back and ordered the men off the road and into cover on the western side, letting the road act as an open stretch that would reveal the bandits if they were to attack.

The troops seen to, Lydia went back to Kratos and gently touched his shoulder. He raised his head slowly and let out a breath, "I can feel it. The battle that was here." He turned his head and looked up at her, "But there is more. My axe is close." He gestured vaguely to the east before growling, "I want it back." Kratos stood then and looked off in the direction from which he could feel the familiar presence of the Leviathan Axe.

"My thane, we will do our utmost to retrieve it…" Lydia trailed off for a moment glancing up at him, "But this seems to be more than just a search for a favored weapon you have lost."

They stood side by side in silence for a time, the quiet only broken by the occasional twitter of birdsong or breeze rustling the undergrowth before Kratos replied softly, "It was my wife's." Lydia's brows shot up as she turned her head abruptly to look at him.

She blinked and looked forward again, "I did not know you were married."

Kratos nodded slowly, "I was. Yes." There was a weight and solemnity to his words that left Lydia with no doubt that his wife was now in Sovngarde. Or wherever it was that fallen gods go. The silence descended again and held for a time before Eyja, stepped back out onto the road and quickly approached them.

She brought fist to heart in salute before speaking, "Thane, housecarl, we have picked up the trail. It appears that either they left a reserve party behind that followed them later or we are not the first to track these bandits."

Kratos let out a grunt, "The Vigilants hunt them as well. We go now. I wish to avoid the complications they will bring." Lydia nodded and went immediately to gather the men. When they were organized, Kratos gestured to the scout, "Lead on." With another salute the scout lead the party off into the wooded foothills. They had only been hiking for a few minutes when they reached the trail and Kratos immediately picked up the sign. He also noted their other scout hiding in the dappled undergrowth well before he rose from his crouch to greet them.

The Breton approached them and reported in a low tone, "This is the main trail. It appears to be a large group of men. We do not have an accurate gauge, but we believe them to be approaching 30 strong. Algar has followed the trail on ahead."

Kratos nodded, "Good." He waved the other scout forward as well. "Carry on. There is no point in delay." That said, he set off up the trail with the two scouts, leading the main party, headed by Lydia, along the trail of the bandits. To Kratos' keen eyes it was an easy track to follow, made inescapably obvious by the additional markers left by the scout who had gone on ahead.

They continued deeper into the sun dappled wooded foothills, climbing ever higher towards the mountains. The sense of rightness of their course and the increasingly strong presence of the axe in his mind were an additional, though unnecessary, confirmation to Kratos that they were on the correct track and nearing their destination. Kratos idly waved away an insect buzzing by his face when he heard the faint sound of a rustle that struck him as out of place. Kratos fist rose and he dropped into a crouch. At his signal the other scouts did the same. Kratos slowly drew a steel dagger from his belt and began to creep forward on silent feet. He hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when he heard a whistled signal from up ahead disguised as a bird song. Kratos gestured to Eyja the scout who let out the warbling counter sign. A moment later the final scout appeared, keeping low as he came down the trail towards them.

Upon spotting Kratos he made his way over and took a knee before speaking in a whisper, "My thane, there is a cave mouth up ahead. It appears to lead into an old nord barrow. There are two sentries there now." The scout paused as the other two joined them, "We are not the first to come here. There was a battle at the cave mouth 12-24 hours earlier judging by the blood stains on the earth." He cleared his throat quietly, "The sentries… seem more like farmers. They are not hardened bandits. Hatchets and woodsman clothes only. No proper arms or armor."

Kratos let out a low rumble, and gestured to one of the scouts, "Go bring up the main party." The scout saluted and departed down the trail, where Lydia and the troops were making a purposefully slower progress up the trail. "You two will come with me. If they attempt to call out or fight, kill them." They nodded to him and then all three set off towards the barrow.

They soon came upon a small clearing with a cave mouth set into the abruptly rising stone face of the lower reaches of the mountains on the far end. Two young men were keeping watch at the cave mouth, each carrying a woodsman's axe. One sat on a boulder while the other generally puttered about. They were carrying on a soft conversation as well that Kratos and his men could not quite make out. Kratos let out a soft snort. Completely ineffective. He gestured to the two scouts who had accompanied him and they knocked arrows, settling their aim on the sentries.

Kratos waited a few moments until the two sentries focus was on each other and the conversation, before standing and striding purposefully across the clearing. His immense strides devoured the distance. He was very nearly upon them before the sitting man, barely more than a youth really, scrambled to his feet, interrupting his compatriot who was moaning about why they had to be assigned guard duty, "Wha – Hey, you, stop! Who are you?!" At this point Kratos was only a couple steps away, staring down at the startled young men.

Kratos interrupted, "Quiet. You are with the bandits here?"

The other youth replied, "Yes and you had better clear out if you know what's good for you!" He swallowed nervously eyeing Kratos' bulk and weapons. "We're not simple bandits. We follow the Unknown Daedra." Kratos eyed the two and knew of a surety that neither of these mere boys had shed blood in anger. That he knew. With an abrupt lunge he stepped forward and seized the haft of the closest boy's axe, tearing it from his grip with ease.

"Hey!" The other one took a half step forward but stopped when Kratos pointed the stolen axe at him one-handed.

Kratos' eyes narrowed at them, "You are playing at a game you do not understand. You are young fools. So go." He raised his free hand and made a beckoning gesture over his shoulder. Their faces paled further when the two scouts melted out of the trees with drawn bows trained on them. Kratos nodded, "You understand. Now run. Leave this foolishness." The other boy dropped his axe and they both ran off across the clearing. Once they had gotten out of sight, Kratos waved the scouts forward. They both released the tension on their bowstrings and immediately jogged forward, arrows still knocked. "Take up positions inside the cave mouth and keep watch. We will join you soon." After silent nods the scouts did as they were bid.

Kratos paced impatiently outside the cave, waiting for his remaining force to join them. It was difficult to wait now. It was so close. He could feel it and almost couldn't stop from reflexively reaching for it. Only a minute or two later Lydia and the rest of the troops hurried across the clearing to him.

"You are here. Good. We will avoid detection as long as possible. If you must, hit hard, hit first. Defend and support your battle siblings." He gave the assembled group a nod, "We go now."

Kratos gestured Lydia forward. She nodded to him before quickly pointing out 5 of the soldiers, "You are with me and the thane. The rest of you bring up the rear and watch our backs." Lydia turned and strode into the cave, her chosen five following closely and carefully on her heels, weapons already drawn. Kratos came after them, with the remainder trailing behind him. It wasn't long before they came across the two scouts who had gone in ahead. The scouts stayed in position bows trained down the tunnel until Lydia and the vanguard moved past, then they smoothly fell into formation with the smaller rearguard.

The company progressed deeper into the cave, moving slowly, the only sounds were low breathing and occasional accidental scuff of a boot on the stone. They descended through a rough and natural seeming tunnel initially before reaching the worked stone flags and hewn walls of an old Nordic barrow. Somewhere deeper in the complex they could hear the almost inaudible low rhythmic tone of a drumbeat.

They passed through a series of fairly linear rooms before reaching a larger chamber that had exits in each of the 4 walls, heading off in different directions. In the center was a raised dais with a table upon it covered in maps. Burial urns and various bits of clutter were scattered across the room. When they had entered the room and checked down each hallway for immediate danger, Lydia looked to Kratos expectantly. He closed his eyes and cast out his senses, reaching for Faye's axe. His path was clear.

He let out a long exhale and opened his eyes, "Rearguard. Hold this position. Keep our exit clear." He paused momentarily before looking back over his shoulder at them, "If they rout, let them flee." He turned to Lydia and the vanguard before gesturing to the doorway in the far wall. "This way." Kratos set off and the others followed after. The axe was close now. His impatience would no longer allow anyone else to set the pace. Still, he held himself back, moving with care.

They descended further passing through several broad hallways lined with recessed sconces where ancient desiccated corpses lay, each hall on a decline, leading them further into the earth. Several members of the party murmured faint benedictions upon seeing the dead, asking pardon for the trespass against their rest. Kratos ignored them, following the growing sense of the Leviathan Axe and the increasing sound of the drums.

As they neared the end of the final hall, they could hear indistinct voices calling out over the drums. The sounds came from a doorway at the far end of the final hall. The company swept up to it and Kratos did not hesitate to step through. The doorway opened up onto a platform in a very large, open chamber. From the platform the chamber descended 40 feet to its lowest point. Down at this low level was a large amphitheater cut from the rock with benches and seating rising in a semicircle around a central area with a raised dais at the far end. Stairways led down from the platform where Kratos and his soldiers waited, to the amphitheater and the platform around its upper level.

The amphitheater was filled with people looking down at the scene unfolding in the center. On the dais sat a raised altar with several bound men kneeling next to it. These bound men were wearing light robes over mail, their hoods were thrown back and each wore a pendant shaped like a drinking horn. Before the prisoners paced a swarthy man of average height and build who held a large and intricately worked bearded axe in his hands. He swept from one end of the dais to the other, gesturing broadly as he harangued the crowd before him.

The man threw his hands into the air, "They hunt us! They hunt us because they fear us! They fear the power that they know will come to us from the Unknown Prince." He shook the axe above his head. "They are terrified because we have proof of his existence and favor!"

Lydia looked down at the scene below her, there were more men than she had anticipated, nearly 40 people of fighting age with various levels of arms and armor. She grimaced at the odds and looked over at Kratos. Her eyes widened when she saw the state he was in. His teeth were bared in a furious rictus and every corded muscle stood out on his enormous frame. Abruptly he threw himself forward and leapt from the platform. Lydia watched wide eyed as he sailed through the air and hissed out, "Nine preserve us!" Kratos clenched his teeth as the wind whipped past his face. The audacity of that man to hold Faye's axe, it was beyond galling. It would not stand!

* * *

Caius knelt on the rough stone and idly shifted his weight, his armored knees grating against the rock. He let out a short sigh, ignoring the inane and altogether insane ramblings of the psychopath waving the axe. He had been a Vigilant all his life and a Brother-Captain for many years. He had hunted cultists and daedra across the entire breadth of the Empire. His finally honed senses buzzed as the one of the madman's gestures brought that strange axe nearer to him. It was certainly not of this plane that much was immediately and easily clear to him. What was equally obvious to someone of his experience was that this weapon was not of daedric origin either. He had come across several items in his career pertaining to different daedric princes and while each certainly had its own unique flavor, so to speak, there was an undercurrent that united them all. Each item, just like each plane, was a facet of Oblivion no matter how different Cold Harbour and Moonshadow were from each other in practice.

Caius looked to his right and saw Titus and Garvey kneeling, their hands, like his bound behind their backs. The sight drove a spike of ice into his heart. He was prepared to die, but it seemed he had not been prepared to lead his men to their deaths. The intelligence they were given had drastically underestimated the numbers of these cultists and seven of his men had already paid the price for this error. He had never seen a new cult gather numbers this quickly. Stendarr have mercy on him for failing his men and people of Skyrim.

A sudden shout shook him out of his dark ruminations. He looked up just in time to see a pale giant of a man land in the center of the amphitheater. The stone reverberated with the force of his impact, but he stood completely unfazed and uninjured. He was immense, huge corded muscles stood out like iron bands from his pale skin and his presence immediately filled the space, silencing the room. He took a step towards the dais and grated out through clenched teeth, "You have my axe. Give it to me. Now." His voice reverberated through the shocked stillness of the chamber. Caius' jaw dropped and he exchanged shocked looks with his few remaining men. That man's legs should be shattered! He should be dead or a screaming lump of broken limbs, not threatening an entire room full of mad cultists.

The cult leader let out a high cackling laugh that made the ashen man's grimace deepen before casting his arms wide and shouting down at him, "You would threaten me and attempt to steal the sign of our lord's favor?!" A ripple passed through the crowd in the amphitheater as they shifted their weight and tightened their grips on their weapons. The cult leader was red-faced and shaking in his righteous anger, a true believer. He swung the axe up, pointing it at the man standing alone in the center of the cavern, "You will die for your blasphemy! Kill him! Kill him now!" The assembled cultists leapt forward in a howling mass.

To Caius' eyes time itself seemed to slow. The pale man's arm shot out straight, hand open, every digit tense and flexed as the mob descended towards him. The tableau seemed to stand still. He could feel the call, feel an almost physical pressure, and nearly a see a titanic will reach out make itself known. This everlasting moment was shattered as the axe tore itself from the cult leader's grip and shot towards the newcomer, turning one complete rotation before settling perfectly into his outstretched hand. The mob closed in around him as he thrust the axe above his head with a triumphant roar.

The flash of light left Caius blinking at the afterimage pulsing on his retinas before a pulse of pressure and the shock of cold reached him and nearly drove the breath from his body. He had sailed the Sea of Ghosts in a treacherous winter voyage once and had sworn that nothing could be colder than the screaming north wind rushing along the black arctic water. He was wrong. It was as if in that flash of light there was for a brief moment the bleakest heart of stygian fimbulwinter, something beyond the very nature of Nirn. His breath clouded the air and the bare rock of the cavern on which he knelt was shot with rime.

Those who had been quickest to attack and nearest to him stood as icy statues, their bodies flash frozen and ruined, covered with icicles pointing away from the epicenter, driven by blast of ancient cold. Others lay scattered and insensate, clutching at their eyes or coughing up blood, the sensitive capillaries in their noses and lungs damaged by the impossible drop in temperature. The pale man lowered his axe and stepped toward the gibbering cult leader.

Caius saw his opportunity and with a contortion of his hands immolated the ropes that bound his wrists. As he set to work on his feet, he saw a group of the more fanatical preparing for another rush at the pale stranger, before he could call out a warning though a wedge of plate wearing soldiers crashed into them and immediately began laying waste to the cultists. He noted that the warriors all wore red war paint reminiscent of the tattoos borne by the pale man. It was clear in an instant that the cultists were outmatched and their morale soon to be, if not already, crushed. Hearing a shout he jerked his attention back to the pale apparition just in time to see the end of his mighty leap and the flash of his axe. With a wet crunching sound the axe blasted through the cult leader's torso, hurling a shower of gore and scattering entrails in the blow's direction.

Caius stumbled to his feet and took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his grizzled face before pushing back his jaw-length hair that was now as much grey as black. He slowly moved to release Titus. He had no illusions about his condition and he had seen what the man and his soldiers were capable of. If he wanted them dead then this cavern would still end up being their grave.

* * *

Kratos whipped the Leviathan Axe through the air, bringing it to an abrupt halt and slinging off the blood clinging the blade. He brought the blade up before his face and closed his eyes, letting out a long slow breath. It was good to have it back, to feel its familiar place his mind and have it heed his call. The bond was now bright and strong once more, shining in his mind's eye.

He had been somewhat surprised at the increased efficacy of his runic powers. Kratos let out a small grunt. Perhaps he should not be. He could feel it in the air here, what the people of this plane call magicka. It was thicker here than in Midgard. Sometimes he almost felt as if he could reach out and pull it out of the air. A ghost of a smile flitted across his face for a split second as he gazed at Faye's axe. Perhaps he should try sometime. The sounds of the chamber intruded and he heard Lydia's voice cut across them all, ordering their men to disengage and let them flee. Kratos nodded and turned, putting the Leviathan Axe in its proper place on this back.

The chamber had cleared. Between the fury of Kratos' attack and Lydia's squad cutting through them the bulk of the cult had fled as quickly as they possibly could. Kratos' gaze turned on the former prisoners who had managed to free themselves. The leader of the trio waited patiently, outwardly calm, and his two compatriots followed his lead albeit with less ease. One of them flinched when he finally spoke, "Who are you?"

The grey haired one stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest, "I am Brother-Captain Caius Valerius of the Vigilants of Stendarr. I thank you for saving my life and the lives of my men."

Kratos merely let out a grunt and turned to Lydia, "Report."

She brought fist to chest quickly, "No injuries, my thane."

"And now?"

She nodded to him, "I go to rendezvous with the rear guard and secure our means of egress." She saw the pleased cant to his jaw and smiled inwardly.

"Do so." He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned casting his gaze over the rest of the soldiers, "Well fought." Caius tensed, feeling something, a ripple in the aether, just like… No. He frowned intensely lost in thought.

Kratos dropped his hand and gave them a nod. Lydia and her men set off at a quick trot, heading back up the stairs and the passageways. Kratos closed his eyes again for a moment and took a deep breath, centering himself, relinquishing the rage that had filled him at seeing Faye's axe in the hands of another. He looked back to the Vigilants who had taken the opportunity to arm themselves from weapons dropped by the fallen cultists.

Their leader, Caius, cautiously approached him and spoke, his voice quiet, "Might I have the honor of your name? We would know to whom we owe this debt."

As always he was reluctant to part with his name. However it changed nothing. They had heard him named thane and he could be identified easily enough. He let out a sharp breath through his nose, "Kratos." He set off after his men, leaving the Vigilants in a stunned group behind him. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard them following after.

Soon enough Kratos and the Vigilants trailing after him arrived at the crossroads chamber. Kratos nodded in appreciation as he entered the room, noting that none of the sentries at the other three doors so much as glanced in his direction, keeping their gazes focused on their respective watches. He approached Lydia who was conferring with one of the soldiers, "Report."

Lydia grimaced, "We have three wounded, one more seriously than the others. The routed from our battle gave them no trouble, but they saw heavy fighting from reinforcements from elsewhere in the complex." She took a breath to continue but was interrupted by a loudly cleared throat.

Caius stepped forward, "I apologize for interrupting, but my brothers and I have some skill in healing. We may be exhausted but please show us to your wounded. We will do what we can." Kratos' appraising gaze fell on the Vigilants again and Caius met his amber-eyed stare without flinching. Kratos gave them a curt nod and led them over to the three wounded in the far corner.

Kratos took a knee beside the first man and examined him for a moment, with a snap of his fingers he caught the man's eye, "You will survive." His words carried forceful certainty and again Caius caught that same unsettling shift in the aether. Kratos repeated a similar process with the other two wounded before standing and turning to Caius, "Do what you can for them."

Caius nodded before gesturing his two brothers in Stendarr forward. They knelt and began to work what healing magicks they could. After their own battle and physical wounds, it was not as much as they would have wished. The Vigilants may be a militant branch who subscribed more to Stendarr's justice, but as with all of the God of Mercy's follower's, healing was a skill they trained and cherished. After a few minutes had passed with the chamber lit by the golden glow of restorative magicks, Caius straightened, "We have done what we can for them at this time. If nothing else they should be safe to move."

Kratos gave him a slow nod before turning to his own people, "Lydia take five and form the vanguard." He examined the wounded again, "We need two to carry him, the others will be able to walk. I will see to it nothing follows us. We move." Lydia began to bark a few orders, calling out names, and soon they set off, with Kratos bringing up the rear.

Soon enough they came out into the sunlight, blinding after their stint underground. Before the party's momentum could abate Kratos called from the rear, "Continue. We make for Kynesgrove immediately."

Lydia nodded as she gestured the men forward, "We have driven the bandits out into the woods. I don't relish the thought of spending the night out here with them or giving them enough time to prepare ambushes. Keep your eyes sharp."

"Vigilant." Caius' head jerked around upon hearing the gravelly bass rumble. "You may travel with us as far as Kynesgrove." Caius nodded, equally ready to be out of the man's unsettling presence. Something disturbed him despite the fact that he had rescued them.

"I understand. From there we shall make our own way." Kratos gave him a gruff nod and then promptly ignored him, returning his attention to the surrounding woods.

After the first hour they were back on the road and making reasonably good time back towards the town, despite the wounded. On their trip through the woods they had stopped briefly to fashion a makeshift stretcher from tree limbs and cloaks, which had sped their pace significantly.

Lydia fell back to Kratos' side at the tail of the column. They marched on in silence for a time before she spoke, "You do not seem overly pleased to have the Vigilants in our company." He simply shook his head. She waited still looking at him, one eyebrow cocked.

Kratos glanced over at her again, before letting out a sharp exhale from his nose, "I am not." She smiled.

After another minute, "Why is that?"

Kratos reached up and scratched at his beard before answering, "They follow this Stendarr. I have no business with the gods or their followers, girl." When she did not answer, Kratos let out a small rumble and looked over at her only to find her looking back with a bemused expression on her face. He raised one eyebrow at her.

She grinned, "I hope you see the irony in that."

He snorted, "I do not."

* * *

AN: This one definitely took longer to get out than I was originally planning. Not because of any difficulty with the story, just physically. I had PRK done recently (like lasik but way longer/worse recovery) and so seeing anything on my computer has been pretty difficult. So, apologies if there are more editing errors than usual, but it is what it is.

If you're reading the story and enjoying it or just have something to say please take the time to leave a review. I appreciate hearing from all of you.

Until next time.


	10. Chapter 10

Iddra leaned against the bar, idly wiping at the already clean surface with a cloth. It had been a very quiet day ever since that group of soldiers led by the pale giant man had marched away that morning. She sighed and pushed her hair back with one hand. Business was particularly slow. Iddra glanced around the empty common room and straightened. The local customers were simply not out tonight and it was getting to be quite late. She tossed the cleaning rag onto the well-polished bar and walked around it to begin setting up the chairs.

It was getting harder of late. The Braidwood Inn was seeing fewer travelers as tensions between the Stormcloaks and the Empire mounted ever higher. Of course the inn still had all of its rustic charm. All of the furniture was well made, if simple, and she was careful to keep everything clean and maintained. Still she couldn't help but worry that war would truly come and Kynesgrove would be either a battleground or cut off from the rest of the province.

Sudden heavy footsteps on the on the stairs leading up to the inn door made Iddra turn and look over just in time to the see the door thrust open. The enormous pale man had returned and ducked through the doorway. He saw her immediately across the firelit room and called out, "We require lodging. Food and drink also." He stepped into the room as he spoke, opening the way for his soldiers to pour in after him. She saw that several of them were wounded and surprisingly that several of the Vigilants of Stendarr, which had previously passed through town, appeared to be traveling in his company now.

Iddra nodded to him, looking over the crew filing into the inn once more. "I'll fix up a space for the injured and then bring out something to eat. Just a moment!" She bustled off quickly to see to it. Kratos nodded his thanks, though she was already turning away and likely did not see.

He turned back to his men, "Rest, eat and drink. You have all done well." As he spoke, Brother-Captain Caius Valerius' sharp-eyed gaze saw him lay a hand on the shoulder of a nearby soldier. The man was visibly wilting, exhausted by the long marches at speed, the combat, and the lateness of the hour, but he straightened immediately, eyes bright at Kratos' gesture. With his non-physical senses he noted the same distortion to the very aether that he had seen back at the cultists' cave. Caius' eyes narrowed slightly as the man then set off immediately to help settle one of the wounded at a table, helping to ease his injured compatriot down.

Kratos beckoned Lydia back over and when she had arrived, murmured to her, "Settle the men and compensate the innkeep. We will take stock in the morning." Lydia nodded to him and set out to see it done. The next few minutes was composed of organizational bustling as the men were fed, settled, and assigned rooms. The Vigilants were also swept up in Lydia's efforts, something to which Caius had no objection as they currently had no supplies or money and were effectively destitute.

Soon enough everything had fallen into place. Half of the men had retired to their beds, the rest were finishing eating, and the cost was settled. Lydia glanced around the room double-checking their situation. She did not see Kratos in the inn. Brows drawing neatly together she stood and looked about again. As there was no way to miss the man, clearly he had left. She out a short and somewhat frustrated sigh. Regardless of whether or not she believed that there was anything that _could_ threaten her thane, he was just that. Her thane. Moreover she was _supposed_ to be his shield. His red right hand. Lydia stood quickly and swept out of the inn onto the moonlit street of Kynesgrove.

The night air was cool and a gentle breeze rustled the treetops. Lydia stood for a moment on the porch of the inn looking about for any sign of the man. After a moment, she simply began walking, following a gut feeling. She came upon him suddenly. He was sitting completely still, axe resting across his lap, at the edge of the trees on the wooded rise of the eastern edge of Kynesgrove. When she noticed him it was as if he appeared from nowhere, a pale marble pillar in the night, marked in red, his unwavering gaze staring out over the sleeping village.

Lydia joined his solitary vigil and sat near him, noting the care with which he held his axe. They sat in silence for a time before Lydia broke it, "You are well, my thane?"

When Kratos answered he spoke softly, barely audible even in the still night, "I am." Lydia looked over to see him staring down at the weapon that held gently, with an almost reverent air. Remembering its origins, Lydia abruptly felt like an intruder, someone who had stumbled in upon his grief. She swallowed and stood, taking a few steps to go before pausing. She opened her mouth and almost spoke before closing it again.

After another aborted attempt she finally said quietly, "I wish I had met her." Before starting her way back to the inn.

A few steps later she heard Kratos' voice rumble through the night, "She would have liked you." Lydia smiled and continued walking.

Kratos sat, lost in his memories of Faye where time had no meaning. It was only the lightening of the eastern sky that finally moved him. He turned when he saw the sun light the far edges of the valley; Kynesgrove still shadowed by the mountains and wooded foothills. He stood slowly and began to make his way back into the town. He had given the night to his memories. But he knew better than to lose himself to his grief. Time had dulled its ache but the wound was there and was, he believed, as immortal as he was.

Kratos made his way swiftly to the inn. Despite the early hour when he entered, there were quite a few people scattered around the common room. He was not surprised to see Lydia there as she had taken to his custom of rising well before the sun. Several of his own soldiers were present as well as the three Vigilants. He and Lydia exchanged a nod as he entered and made his way over to her. Seeing him, Brother-Captain Valerius made his way over as well.

Seeing Kratos' eyes narrow at his approach, Caius held up a forestalling hand, "I know that here we part ways. We are grateful for all you have done to help us, though it was not your mission or original intent. I only request that you give my brothers and I another opportunity to see to the wounded. We have rested now and should be able to do more for them."

Kratos nodded silently, upon realizing that he intended to say nothing, Lydia quickly interjected, "We thank you for the care of our injured. Please let us know your recommendations for further treatment as well."

Caius gave them a small smile, "Of course. I won't keep you. I hope to meet you both again under more pleasant circumstances. Stendarr's blessing on you both." With a final nod he walked over to his own men and they immediately set out to work their healing magicks. Kratos watched the man for few moments until Lydia drew his attention.

"You truly do not trust the man."

He gave a bare nod, "I do not."

She cocked her head quizzically "Do you think he will… do something?"

"He will not."

Her brows rose, "So he will do nothing, but you still don't trust him."

Another nod, "I do not know or understand his goals. A thief I trust to be a thief."

Lydia's eyes brightened, "So it's the nature of the person then." She shrugged and gave him a grudging nod as she considered his point. She looked at him, serious once more, "Do you trust me then?"

Kratos looked at her, catching her eyes and holding them in his amber stare for a moment before answering, "You are my red right hand."

Soon enough the company was on the road heading back towards Whiterun, though moving at a much more restrained pace out of consideration for the recently wounded. All of the injured were ambulatory now and were, for the most part, highly functioning. The healing magicks of the grateful vigilants had been highly effective and served to almost complete their recovery.

Lydia reflected back on the somewhat strange morning and departure. As they had made their final preparations to leave Kratos had been somewhat preoccupied, almost seeming distracted to her, which was not a term she had ever thought to use to describe the man. He had then declared that they would, at least for the first leg of their journey, avoid the main road and cut southwest across the main portion of Eastmarch before rejoining the main thoroughfare and the White River at the pass and continue into Whiterun. Lydia had immediately inquired on the reason behind this change of course as the only reason that she could see would be to avoid pursuit.

Lydia sighed and rubbed her face at the memory. He had only said that he "had a feeling" and that this should be their course. She was worried. Not because of the seeming lack of reason but because she had complete faith in that reason. She did not know how he knew what he did, but through whatever divine sense or mechanism it came, she new better than to disregard it. She remembered their hunting expedition, when he _knew_ that one of their people had been taken, how he had tracked his axe by that same sense, and she saw no reason to disregard that warning sense now.

They traveled for the entire day without incident, their pace unhurried, not wishing to risk injury on the rougher terrain or to strain the recuperating members of the troop. However at Kratos' insistence a scout traveled ahead of the party and another trailed behind to keep a weather eye out for any watchers or possible interlopers. Similarly their camp that night was a cold one. No fires burned to give away their position and a vigilant watch was kept up through the night.

The next day passed in very much the same way. They continued west through Eastmarch, paralleling the White River but keeping out of the marshy region to the south, sticking to the band gnarled trees that occupied the space between the trees and marshland. They crossed several offshoots of the mighty White River that flowed off to the south and camped near the foothills of the Throat of the World and its associated range.

Lydia awoke the following morning to find her thane already awake as usual but seeming more agitated. Lydia quickly armed herself and checked over her armor, securing the leather straps. With that completed she approached Kratos and joined him as he gazed off to the east. "What is it, my thane? What troubles you?"

He answered without turning, "Battle is coming." His nose wrinkled in a silent snarl, "I can smell it." Lydia waited for a moment, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. She only smelled the crisp clean air of Skyrim, redolent with the scents of pine and fir. She opened her eyes and looked over to Kratos with a shrug. He minutely shook his head, "No. Again. Focus." He reached out and gently tapped the tip of her nose, "You are not just using this." He moved his finger and placed it at the center of her forehead, "You are using your head," he dropped his and tapped her breastplate, "and your heart."

Lydia took another deep breath and closed her eyes, pushing outwards with every sense. She tried to reach outside herself. She felt nothing. But… as she waited she became aware of a sense of pressure that weighed on the outer edge of her awareness. She opened her eyes, her brow wrinkled in thought, to find Kratos looking at her intently. She cleared her throat, "There is… something. I don't have the words to describe it. But something is out there. Almost a weight, but that's too physical a term." She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, searching for words to express what she had felt.

Kratos nodded slowly, "Good. Be aware. Trust your instincts." He looked off again into the trees, quiet again for a moment. "Today. Tell the men to be ready. We will spill blood this day." Lydia nodded, no doubt in her mind. Though he spoke softly his pronouncement seemed to hang in the air like the tolling of a graveyard bell. Lydia immediately went through the camp, waking the men softly and telling to get their gear together quickly. Soon enough, they were assembled together, armed and ready.

Kratos stepped up to the head of the group. "We continue our journey. But we will do battle today. Be ready." Lydia called out the marching order and named the forward and trailing scouts. They set off towards to the foothills, an understandably tense and serious mood hanging over the company at the earlier pronouncement, but also with an air of excitement. They were finely trained soldiers; battle was their choice and calling.

They continued westward up to the foothills and soon enough, entered the sparse pine woods that covered the low hills and steeper slopes leading up into the mountain range and to the Throat of the World. Kratos led them up to the edge of the mountains and then turned their course northward, towards the main pass and path back into Whiterun Hold.

Kratos walked along at the rear of the main column, leaving Lydia to see to the van. He glanced up at the sun, it was early afternoon, and they had been on their northerly heading for perhaps an hour. Kratos' brows drew together as he felt it, the familiar stillness before a battle. "Lydia, to me." Lydia looked back at Kratos, turned to the man behind and waved at him to carry on the path and then slowed dropping back down the column.

When she reached him, Kratos was looking over his shoulder behind them, staring down the path from which they had come. Lydia shot him a quizzical look, "What is it, my tha–" She cut off as Eyja, the rear scout, burst from the bushes making for the main column. Lydia's brows rose as she looked over at Kratos, who was waving Eyja over.

"Report." Kratos rumbled as the scout approached. Eyja slowed, stowing her bow on her back and saluted, raising her fist to her heart as she breathed heavily.

"Thane, housecarl. We are being pursued by a group of perhaps 40 stormcloaks. They are traveling hard and are not far behind. I do not know their intentions but they are well armed and clearly soldiers."

Lydia turned to Kratos, "The wounded are largely recovered. We could push and perhaps stay ahead of them to the border."

Kratos shook his head. "No. We push until we reach a defensive position. Then we do what we must. Call back the forward scout." Lydia nodded and set off immediately up the line to dispatch one of the men. Kratos waited for a few minutes for the scout to regain her breath before continuing, "What more can you tell me?"

Eyja closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Stormcloak uniforms. Clearly tracking us. They have some competent trackers. I have done some work to obscure our trail. I do not think it likely that they came across our trail and then decided to investigate. They are too many and too set on us, especially given our heading and proximity to the border." She was quiet for a moment as they marched, before continuing, "I believe you are being hunted, my thane. Perhaps you made a larger impression in Windhelm than we originally thought."

Kratos shrugged slightly and let out a small rumble, "They should be cautious. If you go hunting something, you may catch it." A razor sharp grin flashed across the scout's face, giving her a feral aspect momentarily. They both looked up as Lydia and the forward scout returned.

Lydia saluted as she returned, "My thane, we have good news." She gestured to the scout to continue.

He saluted as well, falling in beside them, "Thane, not far ahead there is rock slide, and beyond that there is an area where they underlying stone of the mountain comes through. There is hill leading to sheer rock above and only two viable paths up, one over the very difficult terrain of the slide."

Kratos nodded along with his words. "Good. Go. Lead the column there." The man saluted once more and set off to the front of the column, Eyja on his heels. Kratos' eyes flicked over, noticing the troubled expression on Lydia's face. "Speak, girl."

She hesitated briefly, "That terrain would defend us but also trap us. They could wait us out."

Kratos nodded, "True. But this is no war. They have no supply line. They will have no more supplies than we do." He shrugged, "And I will break their line if need be."

Lydia let out a surprised chuckle at that, "You change the dynamic of the battlefield, don't you?"

He nodded, "We do."

Lydia smiled, "Then we face them here." Kratos merely let out a grunt of assent. They both fell silent as they followed along at the end of the column being led by the two scouts. Soon enough they came across the rockslide and the hill that the scout had described.

Once they had arrived at the top Kratos turned to the men, "Eat lightly and drink. Rest. They will be upon us soon." Kratos went to stand at the top of the only clear approach to the hill and waited, looking out at the land and woods below. Lydia joined him, a silent shadow one step behind his right shoulder.

A stormcloak scout emerged from the woods and froze when he saw them. He slowly stepped back into the trees and Kratos let out a derisive snort, "Sloppy." He turned slightly to look back at Lydia, who stepped up level with him.

She nodded, "They will be here soon." True to her word the stormcloaks arrived shortly thereafter. They made no attempt at stealth but filed out of the woods and formed up at the base of the hill, a solid block of 40 soldiers with their officer standing in front. Silence reigned for a moment as Kratos and Lydia looked down at the stormcloaks, their soldiers standing in stoic ranks behind them. Lydia turned to the company and with her voice pitched low delivered her orders, "Five and five, rear rank bows, shields front. Keep them on the slope." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Kratos nodding along.

A cool wind stirred the branches of the nearby firs as the two armed groups faced each other in silence, the whole scene a frozen tableau. After another few moments the stormcloak officer stepped forward, he was dressed in the standard stormcloak uniform of leather and chain armor with a blue tabard. He stood in a parade rest and called up the hill, "I would speak with Thane Kratos of Whiterun! By your leave I will approach with two of my men."

The words hung in the air for a moment before Kratos gravelly voice reverberated across the intervening space, "Come." The officer turned and sharply gestured to two of the men in the company. They joined the officer and the three trudged up the hill to Kratos, Lydia and their company.

The officer raised a hand in greeting as he approached, "Hail, I am Captain Darynn of Windhelm. I bring a request from Jarl Ulfrich that you attend him immediately in Windhelm." He paused meaningfully, "We are to escort you there." The captain looked as if he were about to say more but he was interrupted by Kratos' snort.

Kratos' lip curled as if he smelled something distasteful. "You bring an armed company of 40 soldiers to convey a request."

The captain nodded, "Yes, thane. Jarl Ulfrich is – "

"No."

He blinked, surprised at the abrupt declaration. "You mean–"

"Your jarl is a fool. I deny his request." Kratos crossed his arms and looked down at the man who seemed diminutive in his shadow.

The captain's face clouded with anger and the men accompanying him were clearly stunned by Kratos' words. He glared up at Kratos, "We are here to escort you to the jarl. And we will. We have 40 soldiers." His voice had risen in volume and he cast a meaningful look at Kratos' greatly outnumbered company.

Kratos let out the type of grunt that Lydia had come to associate with his sense of humor, if one could call it that, before answering, "No. You have 40 men. _I_ have 10 _soldiers_."

The captain scoffed, "And you would waste their lives so freely? You are outnumbered. They will die here."

Kratos turned slightly to his soldiers, "Will you follow me?"

"Yes, thane!" came the resounding answer.

"Would I lead you to defeat?"

"No, thane!"

Kratos turned back to the stormcloak captain, "Go back to your men. Go home. We have no quarrel." His face darkened and he took a step toward the captain, "Or come up this hill. I will make your wives widows and your children orphans." The captain swallowed heavily at that but stood his ground. No mean feat in the face of pale behemoth that stood before him.

He shook his head, "I wish that you would see reason, thane."

Kratos only shrugged, "I have. I have not followed you seeking blood. You choose what happens now." The captain sighed and turned to go down the hill, his men following quickly on his heels. When they had gone, Kratos turned to his soldiers, "Your greatest shield and your greatest weapon is the soldier standing beside you. Fight as one. Victory is ours to lose."

Lydia then raised her right fist into the air and the rest of the company followed suit. They all then struck their breastplates twice in rapid succession, letting out a great shout with each blow. Lydia retrieved a small bowl from her pack and quickly mixed their signature deep red warpaint. She went down the line and each soldier dipped their fingers into the bowl before drawing a red line from their hairline, over their left eye, coming a point at their jaw. Lydia drew her own last and set aside the bowl.

Kratos drew back and gestured the company forward. They quickly formed up at the top of the path leading to the top of the hill, the front forming a shield wall across the narrow path. He watched as 30 of the stormcloaks raised their shields and began storming up the path, holding their line well. The remainder stayed below and began to loose arrows at the defenders. Kratos waited for the first shaft to fall, striking one of his soldier's shields, before commanding his own archers to respond in kind.

Arrows flew between the two groups, Kratos' troops faired better at this stage, his archers hiding behind the shields of his men who could cover themselves far more effectively than the stormcloaks trying to come up the hill. Only a couple of the stormcloaks fell to arrows as they stumbled on the difficult terrain, giving the Kratos' archers opportunity. Kratos stood impassively glaring down at the approaching enemies, occasionally smashing an arrow from the sky with the Leviathan Axe. Seeing that contact would be coming soon, Kratos abandoned his vigil and made his way over to the rockslide.

The arrows coming up from below slowed as the main party of stormcloaks neared the small shield wall, the close conditions making it difficult to avoid hitting their own soldiers. The archers of both sides seized their other weapons and moved to join the fray now that they could not have certainty of not hitting their own. The stormcloaks let out a yell and began to run, gaining to momentum to crash into the shield wall, before a large stone, roughly the size of a grown man were he to be curled up, soared over the defenders and smashed into the center of their charge, bowling over several men and cancelling all of their momentum.

"Forward!" came the bellowed command from behind, and the defenders dashed forward in a brief counter charge, moving in lock step, crashing into the now disorganized formation. Lydia watched as the battle was joined, keeping her eyes open for any wavering in their formation requiring reinforcement. She glanced aside to see Kratos dusting off his hands before drawing the Leviathan Axe from his back once more.

The small battle was furious and the foothills rang with the discordant clash of steel, enraged shouts, cries of pain and the falling of bodies. Several of Kratos' men were wounded but all continued to fight, rotating out smoothly to bind wounds when they had the opportunity. The stormcloaks did not fair so well and despite being true sons of Skyrim, many of them lay bleeding into the dust and rock of the hillside.

Movement off to the right caught Kratos' attention and he turned to see several stormcloaks making the slow and much more laborious climb over the treacherous rockslide to attempt to get above the company and attack from behind. With a grunt Kratos spun and hurled his axe. It spun as it rocketed through the air before slamming deep into the side of a shocked stormcloak. The man was blasted from his feet and tumbled down the boulder-lined slope. He let out another final cry, when the now bloody axe wrenched itself from his body and soared through the air back to Kratos' outstretched hand. The deceleration of the axe when it slapped into his palm threw a spray of blood across his face and chest.

The stormcloaks clambering across the slide had frozen in shock on seeing the Leviathan Axe fly back its master like a hunting hawk returning to its lord. The still moment was shattered when Kratos hurled the axe again, splitting another skull. The remaining men fled for cover seeing another one of their number's body cast ruined down amongst the stones.

Lydia noted the approach as well, "Eyja! Algar! Arrows right! Go… NOW!" The two soldiers dropped back out of the formation without hesitation and ran to take up their bows again. A stormcloak rushed at the gap created, his shield a bulwark before him, only to be blasted back when Lydia's plate boot smashed into him with preternatural force. Lydia stepped into the gap, deftly ducking a swing from another stormcloak and with a twist of her body throwing all of that force into a punch with the edge of her shield aimed at the man's knee. He fell back screaming, attempting to clutch at his pulped joint only to be silenced when her blade whipped across his face. Lydia's momentum carried her forward and with a blisteringly fast exchange, knocked another foe's shield aside and ran him through. His blood gushed over her sword hand, staining it crimson.

"Spartans! Forward!" came a familiar roar that cut across the battle with crystal clarity. The line formation extended becoming a wedge in the advance, with Lydia leading it as its bloody edge. The command put new life into the soldiers and the moved forward with renewed ferocity, cutting down the less disciplined and worse trained stormcloak soldiers.

Kratos surveyed the skirmish coolly. The two archers had dispatched the remaining flankers and stopped any others from having ideas of repeating it. Lydia was showing what she had learned under his tutelage at the front, her every move demonstrating economy of motion and grace, spilling blood at every turn. He watched the stormcloak 'formation', he snorted quietly to himself, if you could call it that at this point, waver before breaking completely. His troops cut into the routing stormcloaks, felling even more before he called a halt.

Lydia stood at the front of the line, blood dripping from her blade, her breathing easy, watching them run. Between the last push, those who fell in the rout and the archers efforts there couldn't have been more than six or seven men who actually made it away into the safety of the trees. She looked up as a hand fell on her shoulder. She saw the edges of Kratos' eyes wrinkle slightly as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and she a broad grin broke across her face. Kratos stepped out in front his soldiers and turned to face them.

He was silent for a moment, examining them. They all stood, panting, gasping and bloody. Most sported a variety of minor wounds and contusions. He gave the sight a slow nod, "You have done well." His voice rose and he thrust a hand into the air, "This is your victory! I name you Spartans, for so you have fought!" Lydia could see the soldiers – Spartans – swell with pride. She let out a yell and raised her sword to the sky, the others roared their own agreement and followed suit.

Kratos watched as they celebrated and saw a scarlet trickle snake down Lydia's wrist from the blood on her blade and hand as she held them aloft in victory.

* * *

It was a rather quaint town in Aranea's opinion, but clearly growing extraordinarily quickly. There were signs of new construction everywhere. She smiled as she walked down the central street surveying the hustle and bustle of the community. She drew a few curious glances from the townspeople as she went. Aranea was not the only dunmer that she had seen, but the town was certainly and unsurprisingly predominantly nord. Perhaps it was instead her robes?

She clucked her tongue, somewhat chagrined. Of course it was her robes. Nords by and large had a very suspicious attitude to those who studied the arcane and her blue grey robes picked her out as such a one. She had evidently spent too long in the mountains secluded from the rest of the world if she had forgotten such a thing. It was rather exciting to be amongst others again. Her extended seclusion had made the world fresh again, despite her long life. She was also intrigued to see the reason why she had made this journey.

Aranea smiled up at the sky. _How appropriate._ It was the grey twilight hour, the sun had gone down, but its light had not abandoned the sky. She climbed the steps of the longhouse in the deepening dusk and then through the open door into the entry hall. She looked about at the rather austere and simple furnishings. _Very interesting. _"May I help you?" Aranea turned to see a rather nondescript and unremarkable man standing in one of the doorways.

She nodded in her voluminous hood, "I hope so. I have come to see the thane."

Thomas looked her up and with a brow cocked in question, "What is your business with Thane Kratos?"

Aranea smiled. "I am here to be his court mage."

* * *

AN: This took longer to get out than I wanted to. Work has been crazy. Hope it was worth the wait!

A big thanks to all of those who have reviewed so far! I love to hear your feedback. Please take a moment to leave a comment. I do appreciate hearing from you.

Until next time.


	11. Chapter 11

The study was dimly lit. Several lanterns hung from hooks along the walls, but they didn't serve to alleviate the somewhat oppressive nature of the room created by the thick, windowless stonewalls. A large, dark, and intricately carved, wooden desk dominated the room and bookshelves lined the walls, laden with heavy leather bound tomes of various ages

A woman sat at the desk poring over the maps and papers strewn somewhat wildly across its surface. She looked up as she heard a knock on the door and her brows snapped together bringing out the angular lines of her face. She sighed wearily at the interruption and sat back in her chair. She was no longer young, but she was still very strong and possessed of an iron will and drive. She rubbed briefly at her forehead, pushing back honey gold hair, which was beginning to lose the battle with grey. Her voice rang across the quiet of the chamber, "Enter."

Caius Valerius pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside before turning to close it after himself, sealing the room off once more. He approached, stopping before the desk, "Stendarr's blessing, Keeper Carcette. I apologize for the intrusion but I thought it best that we speak."

The Keeper sighed and stretched her neck, "It is no intrusion, Brother Captain. You are right. We do need to speak." She folded her arms and focused on him like a hawk. "Your report is extremely troubling." Her eyes narrowed, "Some would even say heretical." A razor sharp grin flashed like heat lightning across her face, gone in an instant, "The Thalmor at least would have you murdered in a heartbeat." Caius stood as relaxed as ever, his armor creaked beneath his robes as raised one gauntleted hand to scratch at his beard which was mostly grey at this point.

He shrugged, "To say anything else would be a lie. And this is a truth that I do not believe can be hidden. Some may refuse to see, but I believe there is no hiding it."

Keeper Carcette sat forward with a grunt and picked up one of the papers off the broad desk. After examining it again for a moment, her eyes flicked up to Caius, "This… Kratos. You are sure he is not of this plane?"

A simple nod, "Without doubt."

"That combined with the item means we have a manifestation of an unknown daedric presence on Nirn then, that which is our sworn duty to confront and destroy."

Caius' eyes narrowed, "I must disagree in the strongest possible terms, Keeper. I do not believe he is a daedric prince or daedra at all."

The Keeper shuffled to another paper in her pile and looked back to him, with a brow raised, "So I am to believe this then?" She scanned the page for a moment until her gaze alit on its target. She indicated the appropriate line on the page with an accusatory finger, "'The Thane's pronouncement over his follower resulted in a movement in the aether –'"

"Markedly similar in nature to the blessings that the faithful receive at the shrines of the Divines." Interrupted Caius. "I wrote the report, Keeper. I am aware of its contents."

Carcette's eyes narrowed, "Mind your tongue, Brother Captain. I am the Keeper of the Vigil in Skyrim. I merely give you the chance to reconsider what some – almost anyone in fact – would call heretical claims!"

Brother Captain Caius Valerius closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again, "No, Keeper. To report falsehood would be a failure in my duty to the Vigil of Stendarr. You must know the truth of what is occurring in order to best lead our order." He squared his shoulders, "There is no daedra loose in Whiterun Hold. There is a hitherto unknown being of aedric origin on Nirn. Do with that what you will."

* * *

The sun was reaching its zenith when Kratos and his expeditionary force finally approached the outskirts of Havverfjord. Kratos and Lydia led the column on its approach. Kratos nodded in satisfaction when he saw a sentry mark their presence from a distance and rush back into town to report their movement. He glanced to his right and saw Lydia with a small smile of her own as she noted the same thing.

As they drew closer to the town, a double column of 20 men bearing his red mark across their face came down the road towards them. Kratos' eagle eyed gaze caught on the lead soldier and he could see when the man drew close enough to recognize them. The man in the lead relaxed visibly and called back over his shoulder to the remainder of his men. A ripple passed down the column as men eased their grips on weapons and their shoulders relaxed.

When they entered shouting distance the approaching column of soldiers, clashed their weapons on their shields and let out a thunderous shout before repeating the process once more. The man's face clouded when he took in the condition of the returning force, noting bandages, bloodstains, rents and dents in chain and plate. The captain was an enormous nord. His sandy hair was drawn back in a large braid and his full and somewhat wild beard had the odd beaded braid in it as well. The two forces halted, facing each other and the captain saluted, gauntleted fist, clanging against his plate, "Thane, Housecarl. Welcome home." His brows drew together in a fierce scowl, "Are you pursued? Is there a way we can repay this insult to your person?"

At Kratos' nod Lydia stepped forward, "Valdr, well met. It is good to see you well, captain" A hard smile grew across her face, "We have already repaid this insult ourselves and broke four times our number on the field."

Valdr let out a harsh bark of laughter, "War god's blessing, housecarl! I would expect nothing less when the thane takes the field." He turned and bowed to Kratos his respect writ broad and clear. Only Lydia noted Kratos' infinitesimal facial tick at the phrase 'War god's blessing.'

Kratos gave him a deep nod in return, "I did not break the stormcloaks." He placed a heavy hand on Lydia's shoulder, "Lydia, my red right hand, had that honor." He gestured back to the soldiers behind them, "She and her men broke their lines, and drove the stormcloaks before them like sheep before wolves!" His voice had risen in volume and the soldiers let out a roar at his pronouncement. He looked back to Valdr, "I did not need to fight."

Valdr's grin had only broadened, he stepped forward and clasped Lydia's forearm with another laugh, "Honor, Redhand! A tale and a title!" He stepped back and bowed to them both, "If we may not join you in battle, then at least permit us to escort you back in an honor befitting your success." Lydia saw the edges of Kratos' eyes crinkle slightly at Valdr's words. She thought that he found the man humorous, though she doubted that Valdr himself even suspected.

"Granted." rumbled Kratos. "Let us go." After flashing another shining grin, Valdr turned and shouted a few orders. Like clockwork his men divided and flowed around the smaller, battered column, forming up around them before performing an about face. Kratos gestured forward and led the column, Lydia at his right and Valdr on his left.

They continued on easily, the reinforced group of soldiers carrying on to the front of the longhouse and training area. When they arrived Valdr turned to them once more, "Thane, housecarl, I will see to the men, that they are quartered and cared for. I believe that the steward will have news to share." At Kratos nod, he saluted once more and then left, leading the soldiers off to the barracks.

Kratos paused before entering the longhouse. Lydia noted his hesitation, "Less eager to see to administrative details, my thane?"

He let out a huff, "It is a duty." He strode into the longhouse, a chuckling Lydia on his heels.

No sooner had the door shut behind them than Thomas stepped out into the main hall, "Welcome back, thane. Much has occurred in your short absence and there are several matters that require your attention." Thomas approached, launching immediately into those important matters, completely unperturbed by the scowl that now darkened Kratos' features.

* * *

Suvaris Atheron straightened and wiped her hands on her rough work clothing. She had managed to clear the area where she planned to build and was beginning the digging and earthwork to prepare the foundation of the shop that she had planned. Her brothers continued working on the site. Nearby was their small camp along with the wagon that contained all of their collective belongings.

The past week had been remarkable and if someone had told her before that, that she would be looking to start a general store in a small town called Havverfjord in Whiterun Hold, she would have laughed them to scorn. Nonetheless, here she was. After her fateful and somewhat frightening meeting with the thane of this holding she had been unable to forget his words. Stay and have nothing. Leave and have a chance. Years of slights and injustices were dry tinder to the spark of those words and it had blazed into anger.

Suvaris had launched a tirade in the dunmer tavern, the New Gnisis Cornerclub, railing against Ulfric and his blatantly discriminatory policies, against Windhelm and its backward and cruel people, and against all the injustice they faced daily. Suvaris sighed and her eyes drifted closed remembering that night. She had ended up standing on a table in the tavern, yelling out to an angry crowd, shouting what they all had thought silently for so long. She told them that there was a better life for them and they need not even travel too far. They could leave. Every one of them could leave. They were bound only by their fear, and that had ruled them for too long. She remembered screaming with tears in her eyes that she was tired of being afraid.

That night she and her brothers had begun packing. She had found out later that they were not the only ones. Many of the disposed dunmer of Windhelm had been moved by what she said and her words had traveled through the dunmeri Grey Quarter of Windhelm like a wildfire through dry grass.

Suvaris was shocked when, on the following morning, there were many dunmer trickling out of the city with their wagons, some with only what they could carry on their backs, others with next to nothing, all abandoning Windhelm and heading west.

Suvaris was shaken out her recollections as a shadow fell upon her. She looked up to see the ashen-skinned Kratos and smiled. Kratos looked down at her and his gravelly voice carried out, "You cannot build here." Suvaris' heart turned into a block of ice and her two brothers froze in their work, exchanging wide-eyed looks with each other. Suvaris' mouth dropped open to protest, but despair stilled her tongue. However, Kratos continued oblivious to their shock, "Havverfjord will be built on a grid." He reached over and retrieved a large map from the man at his side. He stepped up to her and gestured to the paper in his hand, "Any of these locations will be acceptable for your construction."

Suvaris' heart resumed beating and her voice shook, "Then you are not removing us from the town?"

He raised one brow, the rest of his face of impassive. "No. I have no reason to. But you must follow the city plan."

She breathed a sigh of relief, "I… I did not know that we should not build here."

Kratos let out a rumble, "It was an oversight. The other newcomers are being informed as well." He paused examining the site. "A shame. You have made a good beginning." He turned to the man at his side, "Show them to an appropriate site." The man bowed slightly, fist to heart.

"Thane!" Suvaris called, "Then there is no… restriction on us dunmer?"

Kratos' brows drew together slightly, "I am no fool. You simply must follow our laws. My law applies to _all_. As I told the khajit, inform the soldiers if you are troubled." He turned and strode away as abruptly as he came. Suvaris breathed a sigh of relief and exchanged a chagrined smile with her brothers.

The man Kratos had brought with him cleared his throat, "Ma'am? I can show you to the site now if you please?"

Suvaris nodded, "Of course, thank you."

He turned and began walking towards a branch off of the main steet, "I apologize for the disruption and your wasted effort. I assist the steward, Thomas, but with all of the new arrivals… well, we have been behind in our work. There is much to do."

Kratos had made several other stops before meeting with Suvaris and afterwards made many more, relocating some of the newly come dunmer, receiving an update from Thomas on judgements needing his approval or ruling, and checking in with the Lydia and Valdr regarding the disposition of their troops and supplies.

The sun was setting on what had been a very busy day. He stood on one of the nearby hills just north of the longhouse and looked over his holding. He was pleased to see all of the new construction going on. It was good that people were being drawn in. He was pleased to hear that many dunmer had abandoned their foolish insistence on staying in Windhelm and set out to make a new future for themselves. Ulfric's fool policies were bearing their sour fruit and that gave him a certain satisfaction that he could not deny.

He let out a low rumble as his mind drifted to the Jarl of Windhelm. Ulfric was vain, foolish, and shortsighted. However, he was not Kratos' concern, or rather he would not be unless he made himself an issue. Based on his previous behavior to date, Kratos was certain that the jarl would further push the issue and in all likelihood eventually necessitate a more serious and _permanent_ confrontation. With a snort he is dismissed the thoughts from his mind. What would be, would be. Ulfric would be dealt with if necessary.

He gave no sign that he was aware of the figure approaching him, remaining motionless and continuing to look out over the town. It did not seem that this individual was making a specific effort towards stealth, but rather that it simply came naturally to them. A sense that he could not name reverberated with some half-remembered aura, an aura that surrounded the figure. "Step forth. Now." A robed woman joined him on the overlook. Her blue-grey skin marked her as a dunmer. She had long wavy hair, black as the raven's wing and her eyes were such a dark red as to be black, like blood in the evening.

She lowered her hood and was quiet for a moment before turning to look up at him; she was small for an elf and a slight thing. Her voice was soft and had a melodic quality, "I am Aranea Ienith. I believe your steward told you of me. I have come to be your court mage and hopefully provide you with counsel of value."

His voice was quiet, but as low and rough as wet gravel, "Tell me who you serve."

She cocked her head at him, "I have come to serve you –" Her voice cut off as faster than her eye could follow, Kratos' enormous hand wrapped around her slim neck and the base of her skull, pulling her into the air before him, her feet kicking futilely above the ground.

His voice was deathly calm as her hands scrabbled at his wrist, but his lip curled in a snarl, "I can smell it on you. I say a _final_ time. Tell me who you serve." Aranea knew he was decidedly not strangling her, his hand was an like an iron collar around her neck, and she had no doubt he could crush her bones and cast her aside with ease.

She pulled down against his wrist to ease her throat, "Azura!" Kratos' eyes narrowed but her lowered her until she was standing on her toes, still clutching his wrist, but breathing easier now.

Kratos nodded slowly, "Good. Now tell me why she sent you here. For I have no desire to kill you."

Aranea spoke quickly, her voice even, only a slight widening of her eyes betraying her distress. She had never seen anyone move as fast as he had. "The Lady of Dusk and Dawn saw you! You are an instrument of change and she believes that change is necessary. I was told to come and serve you, for my Lady is not the only one of the princes to have taken notice. Through my own sight and the Lady's guidance I may provide warnings!" She quickly caveated, "Though I do not see all things."

Kratos stared at her for a long moment, amber eyes boring into her, before lowering her the rest of the way to the ground and slowly releasing her neck. "It is good that you answered honestly." He stopped and regarded her for another quiet moment, "I will accept your service." He looked back out over the growing town in silence as Aranea grimaced and rubbed at her neck.

"I am going back," he said, glancing over at the dunmer, "Come if you wish." He turned and went back down the short path down the hill towards the longhouse. After a bare moment, Aranea followed, still eyeing him somewhat warily.

They entered the longhouse to find Lydia and Thomas discussing the current needs of the town and the soldiers. They fell silent when Kratos approached, looking up at him expectantly. He gestured to Aranea, "I have accepted her service as a mage. She will advise on matters arcane and daedric." Lydia cocked an eye at that cast an appraising look at Aranea, examining the dunmer woman.

Aranea coughed dryly before speaking up, "I am honored. I hope that my council and service will be of value to the hold."

Lydia looked to Kratos, a subtle question in her eyes. At his infinitesimal nod she smiled at Aranea, "We are pleased to have you. It will be good to have another woman on the council as well."

Kratos nodded, "Good." He looked down at Aranea, "We will discuss your duties in more detail later, but for now learn all you can of dragons." Without another word he turned and left them as abruptly as he had come.

Aranea stood looking after him for a moment, one hand idly resting at the base of her throat before she turned back to the others, brows raised and a somewhat concerned expression on her face, "Do you get accustomed to him? Or is he always so daunting?"

Lydia burst out in a laugh that brightened the hall, "Yes, you become used to it. Though I'm sure that some would disagree with me."

Aranea let out a rueful chuckle, "I have seen a century open and close, but in my life I have never met anyone like him." Lydia nodded along in agreement as Aranea continued, "Do you – either of you – have any counsel on how to best work with him? Find favor with him?"

Lydia considered the question for a time before shrugging, "I do not believe that there is any great secret. Persistence and competence." A smile flashed across his face, "I believe that I simply pushed forward until I reached where I am with him."

Thomas nodded, "The housecarl is correct. The man is hard, but he is _fair_. Serve him well, with honor and he will afford you the same. If you are one of his people then he will defend you and Divines help those who face his wrath." Lydia nodded in solemn faced accord.

Lydia rested a hand on the elf's shoulder, "He said you are welcome here and he will not go back on his word unless by your own actions you make it necessary. Be warned, his confidence is not easily gained, but, as Thomas said, he is fair. If you earn it, you will have it." Aranea nodded, musing on what she had been told. Lydia continued looking at the elf for a moment before giving her another grin, "Come. You are mage to the thane. Let's get you settled."

Lydia led off with Aranea following in her wake. Lydia took her to a vacant room on the second floor of the longhouse, opened the door and waved Aranea in with a sweep of her arm. "This room should do. I'll leave you to settle in. I imagine your belongings are likely at the inn. I'll send a man to collect them for you." Aranea examined the room. It was of a fair size, with little in the way of furnishing, but what there was, was very well made, if simple. It fit with the same minimalism that existed throughout the thane's longhouse.

"Aranea." Lydia's voice broke mage's examination of the room, and brought her attention back to the housecarl. "Kratos has welcomed you into his home. Do _not_ betray his trust." Lydia's eyes were as hard as steel, her meaning clear. Aranea nodded solemnly. Lydia's face softened, a tiny smile replacing the executioner's calm, "Like I said. I'm glad to have another woman around." She gave the mage a quick nod and went back to her duties.

Aranea stood musing on her situation, relieved that there was no need for artifice in the Lady's mission for her here. She did not want to try to deceive Kratos. She paused with a slight frown marring her smooth and pleasant features. For that matter she did not want to be in a position to need to attempt to deceive Lydia either. That woman saw much and Aranea had no doubt that if she thought that she was a threat of any kind to her thane that she would not hesitate to kill her. Aranea let out a chuckle, she had desired to move beyond the shrine and serve the Lady in a more active and exciting capacity. It appears she had received precisely what she asked for and proved out the old adage in the process.

* * *

The next weeks passed very quickly. Havverfjord was a in a state of constant activity. The initial influx of dunmer from was finally settling. Buildings were being constructed at a record pace, business ventures established, jobs sought. It proved to be a time of an economic boom for the town as new trades set up shop and merchants took note and began to add it to their routes. Though not so great as the initial exodus from Windhelm, a steady trickle of dunmer continued to flow towards Havverfjord from Eastmarch and other Holds under Ulfric Stormcloak's sway.

Lydia and Valdr were in the training discussing the upcoming patrol and training rotations when one of their soldiers who was on guard duty approached at a trot. Lydia and Valdr fell silent as the men came to a halt before them, saluting. "Housecarl, captain, there is a citizen at the longhouse who brings word of a group he believes to be bandits off on the east road."

Lydia stood and beckoned to Valdr, "Come. Take us to him." The soldier nodded and set off with Lydia and Valdr following.

The big man let out a surprised snort, "You know, Redhand, I thought we had given enough lessons about what happens to bandits in Kratos' holding."

Lydia bared her teeth in a lupine grin, "I agree. But it is a lesson I will gladly teach again."

Valdr let out his barking laugh and clapped her on the shoulder, an informality that only Valdr with his oblivious nature was permitted, "Too true, housecarl!" He looked up at the clear sky, taking a deep, joyous breath before gustily blowing it out and breaking out in his own smile, "Ah, and it is a lovely morning for a battle." Lydia shook her head at his antics as they approached the guard and the nervous looking dunmeri farmer. Valdr put on a more serious demeanor as they halted before the farmer who was nervously wringing his hands. Valdr placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, taking no notice as the man flinched. Many of the dark elves were still not accustomed to the law being anything but harsh and uncaring towards them. "Speak, my good man. Tell us what you saw."

The dunmer cleared his throat, "I was moving my sheep to a different pasture out to the east and saw a small camp. It was in a depression a bit to the north of the east road." He wiped at his brow, "There were some rough men, swords, axes, and at least some were armored. I didn't stay to watch or anything. I took my sheep and went straight back as quick as I could and then ran here."

Lydia nodded to him, "You did well. Very well. Did you see how many they were?"

The farmer made a pained expression, "I'm sorry, housecarl. I didn't count." He squinted searching his memory, "Couldn't be more than a handful though."

Lydia pointed to the soldier who had brought them word, "Take the man inside and let him rest. Food and water." She turned, "Valdr, 10 men double time." Two crisp salutes and the men took off to carry out her orders. She could hear Valdr's shouts and in minutes, 10 men had formed up with her. Without preamble she called "Move out!" and set off to the east at a pace that would have shocked those not accustomed to it. They were tearing down the east road in minutes.

Soon enough Lydia and her cohort saw six men traveling openly up the road towards them. Perplexed Lydia slowed her band. This was not the typical behavior for bandits. It was clear as they drew nearer that this was the group the farmer had mentioned, six rough and dirty men traveling under arms who certainly looked like bandits.

Lydia was somewhat surprised to see the lead bandits face light up when he got a clear look at them. She called out to them, "Halt. State your business in Thane Kratos' holding."

The man in the fore drew his war axe slowly and the tension along the road increased palpably, only to change to confusion as he equally slowly lay it on the road. At a gesture his men began to do the same, "We seek no trouble! I am Lars! My men and I, we come to fight for him!"

Lydia and her men approached the group cautiously, but they made no hostile or threatening moves in the slightest. As she neared, Lydia's eyes widened in shock. _He was not lying_. She saw hanging around this Lars' neck a necklace with a hand carved, but recognizable, wooden omega hanging from it. The man's eyes shone bright with a zealot's passion. She could see it there. _He knows. Somehow, he knows._ Lars saw her note his pendant and smiled broadly. She cleared her throat and spoke again, "You say you come to serve Kratos. Where did you come from?"

"We came from Eastmarch, but where we are from is not important. What is important is we come to serve the same man." Lydia paused a moment examining the man. He was fairly nondescript, of average height with dark brown hair. Nor was he a particularly large man. His studded leather armor left his arms bare and he was only lean, rangy muscle. In all things he was extraordinarily average, a man you could lose instantly in crowd and be unable to describe later. Truly the only thing that stood out about the man was his eyes. They were wide and a clear middling blue, filled with a saint's passion. Lydia took a moment to extend that sense she had no name for, which Kratos had been teaching her to use. As she did so, the man's face took on a subtle exultant tone.

"Come then." She said suddenly. "We will see if Kratos accepts your service." The man beamed and bowed low to her. Valdr merely looked on at the whole proceeding with slightly raised brows and a bemused expression. He had no inkling of what the subtext of the situation was, but he simply shrugged trusting the Redhand implicitly. The potential recruits retrieved their weapons with the same care with which they had laid them down and they all set off back towards Havverfjord.

Back in town, Kratos was examining the ongoing construction occurring in this holding. Passing by the framed buildings and exchanging the occasional nod with the nervous dunmer who did not know yet how to deal with their strange new lord. The natives of the town simply acknowledged him with respect and carried on about their day having become used to his inscrutable ways and moods to a degree.

"Thane?" Kratos turned to see Aranea at his side. He remained silent, cocking a brow at her. She continued, "I heard stories from your soldiers that you used a spell in battle, summoning a blast of freezing magicka." He paused, waiting.

Kratos let out a snort, "Your question?"

Aranea smiled slightly, "I did not realize before that you yourself had a gift for magicka and wondered if you would accept my help to further develop that gift?"

Kratos stopped and looked at her more closely, turning over her offer in his mind, "I do not know that I can wield magicka as you do. What I did, I channeled through my axe. Though it was easier as the magicka is thick here." Aranea's eyes widened slightly not missing the hint about his origins.

She continued undaunted, "Nonetheless, thane, based on what I have heard I think it worth exploring. It could be a useful tool. And if you can feel the magicka as you say, then I believe that bodes well." She shrugged, "It costs you nothing." Kratos was silent for a time, musing on what she said.

"Very well," he rumbled. "Then let us do so."

Aranea cocked her head, "Now?"

"There is no point to delay."

She nodded her head agreeably, "As you say. First we should retire to the hill north of town in case of an accident. There we will conduct our initial experiments." Kratos merely grunted and set off immediately to their destination, Aranea hurrying to keep up with his long strides.

Soon enough they were standing together on the hill where they had their initial confrontation. Aranea immediately launched into explanation of magicka, "We are conduits for magicka. A mage channels and shapes magicka through the use of spells. You can already feel magicka and that sensitivity is the first step towards opening yourself to it and eventually shaping it. Let us perform a small test. Please extend your hand and close your eyes. I will charge the air above your hand with a spell. Tell me what you feel."

Kratos with a somewhat displeased expression did as he was bid, extending his hand. Aranea stepped forward and formed a bolt of lightning in her hands, holding the spell ready above Kratos' outstretched hand.

"Lightning." He rumbled without hesitation.

Aranea blinked, "Excellent. That's correct. Perhaps we should move directly towards attempting to channel the magicka." The lesson deteriorated somewhat precipitously from there, something that was also not unexpected from Aranea's point of view. Spells could take weeks to master and Kratos was not exactly a patient student. She imagined that the concept of 'open yourself to the power around you and let it flow through you' was also foreign to him. After about an hour of fruitless attempts to tap into magicka, Kratos called a halt. _All in all_ thought Aranea as the came down from the hill, _this could have gone much worse._

Kratos stayed on the hilltop for a moment after Aranea had begun her descent, staring into the open air. He let out a snarl of frustration. His hand lashed forward and he ignored Aranea's guidance about being open or channeling and simply seized the magicka, tearing it from the aether. A bolt of lightning shone in his grip for a moment before he relaxed his hand, releasing it slowly back into nothing. He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at his hand once filled with lighting. He let out a snort and went after Aranea, easily overtaking her with his longer strides.

Kratos and Aranea returned to find Lydia and Valdr standing before the longhouse with several ragged strangers. Kratos immediately approached, "Lydia. Report." She saluted and could not help but notice the awestruck looks the newcomers were giving Kratos. Kratos' gaze passed over each of the men in turn, pausing on Lars his eyes narrowed slightly. He had seen this man before.

"My thane, these men travelled from Eastmarch and have come seeking to enter your service as soldiers." She reported simply.

He let out a low rumble, "Your assessment?"

"They are sincere and I do not believe they have ulterior motives. It is possible that they are fleeing trouble in the east. They seek to avoid their past. I can make them soldiers."

Kratos nodded slowly at her last statement before turning to the newcomers. "I accept your oaths. Lydia will make you worthy of them. Her word is mine. She is my red right hand." Unprompted each of the new men knelt there in the street and swore to him. Valdr looked over to Lydia and cocked a brow at the spectacle, receiving a shrug in reply.

Lydia immediately integrated the new men into the training, pairing them with experienced soldiers to ease and speed their assimilation. They took to it quickly, especially their original leader Lars, who approached every request and order with a dogged devotion. The men of the group as a whole were fanatics and each wore the omega around their necks.

As time went on Lydia could see that they were clearly using the icon as a religious symbol some holding it as they muttered under their breath, like some sort of prayer. Lydia found she could not fault them in that. They prayed to the god that they had found rather than one that they had never seen. They had felt blessings dispensed directly from his hand. Lydia saw also when the practice began to spread beyond the original group. Nor were they the only ones to come from the east under arms to fight for Kratos, every so often small groups would come to Havverfjord. They all seemed to recognize Lars though and share his same devotion to the thane.

* * *

AN: Another one in the books. Merry Christmas.

I hope this chapter didn't feel abrupt or disjointed. I had quite a few things that I wanted to get in. I hope that the character and time shifts weren't too jarring and that no one was disappointed by a bit more of a character/slice of life type chapter.

As always let me know what you think and a big thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, follows, or favorites the story. But a bigger thank you for those who make the time to review. Really appreciate the direct feedback.


	12. Chapter 12

It was a beautiful evening. The world was painted with the silvery sourceless illumination of twilight. The last ribbons of orange and yellow had faded from the horizon only a few minutes earlier. Kratos walked down the main thoroughfare of Havverfjord towards the inn, Lydia by his side as she so often was. There were many people still out and about in the town, seeing to their errands or simply hurrying home now that the sun was down. All of the townsfolk bobbed their heads and let out various respectful murmurs when he passed. They knew better by now than to make any large fuss, as it was something that he had shown on numerous occasions he had absolutely no patience for. Kratos still found the entire experience to be strange and at times unsettling. To this point he had found that he more often inspired terror and revulsion than anything else, his presence interpreted as little more than a bloody omen of black times on the horizon. Then came his time of self-imposed exile when he had withdrawn from the world, retreating from all contact. For all of that, though he would not admit it, his new life was… pleasant. He had a people that needed him, a responsibility and the power to fulfill it. He merely hoped that this time he would prove sufficiently wise as well as sufficiently powerful.

Lydia's voice shook him out of his tangled ruminations, "Septim for your thoughts my thane?" He glanced to his right and took in her cocked brow and the slight smile gently tugging at the corners of her lips. Here indeed he was fortunate as well. Lydia had been essentially, foisted upon him by some cultural quirk that he had known nothing about and yet she had grown to be his closest companion. He looked away momentarily looking out across the town. Kratos gently nodded in response to another passing couple who had given him a deferential head bob and saw their faces light up as they went on their way. Their regard had little meaning. Lydia's did. She knew him for who he was. A bloody god of ill-repute. A kin slayer. And knowing this, still she honored him.

Kratos glanced over at her expectant face, clearly still waiting for his answer. He let out a sharp exhale through his nose, "I find their regard for me strange. They do not know me." The smile that had been pulling at the edges of Lydia's mouth now pulled harder and she let out a soft chuckle.

"Kratos, for all that you are and can do, at times you are blind to very simple things. They do know you. Or at least they know enough." She gestured broadly, "All these people know that you levy no tax for yourself, only to support the soldiers. They have seen you work with your own hands on the longhouse or on the roads for your planned city." Her voice dropped somewhat, "They have heard rumors at least of what you did for Jens and Sylvie. They have heard rumors that you knew, even before she told you, that something was wrong and that you would not allow anything to happen to your people." She turned to him slightly as they continued their walk and gave him an exaggerated shrug, "The real question is, how could they not?" In reply Kratos merely let out a low rumble, prompting another chuckle from Lydia.

They slipped into an easy and companionable quiet as they approached The Red Fox. The wooden steps leading up to the door let out a strained creaking as Kratos' weight fell on them. They entered to find the common room pleasantly full but not overly crowded and made their way to a table away from the more crowded area next to the bar, Kratos' preference of having his own space being well known. No sooner had they sat down than the inkeep bustled up himself holding a bottle and two tankards.

"Thane Kratos, I heard from Hulda at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun that this is your preferred wine. I wanted to let you know that I've placed the appropriate orders to have some on hand." He immediately set down the two tankards, the one full of mead before Lydia and the empty one in front of Kratos.

Kratos spoke as the man poured the wine, "Thank you. That is kind."

"Of course!" The man beamed back. "And besides, I'd be a poor host if I didn't have my thane's drink of choice." He set the bottle on the table and stepped back, "Please let me or one of the girls know in case you need anything else. Always happy to help." With a final smile and nod he bustled off to go see to the busy crowd which was only growing as more and more people trickled in.

Lydia looked at Kratos across the table and raised her mug with a grin, "To a day's work and having your drink of choice." Her smile broadened as his only reply was a low gravelly noise, but he still raised his tankard and gently tapped it against hers. He sat back and drank deeply, letting out a pleased breath.

After a minute or two of nursing their drinks Kratos broke the silence, "It has been some time. What do you make of the new men?"

"Lars and his boys?" Kratos made an affirmative rumble. Lydia took another slow sip thinking over their performance to date. This was a positive thing about Kratos. He did not demand immediate answers when there was no need for urgency, he was content to wait the necessary time for a thought out response. "They are good soldiers. Loyal. They have never balked at any command and have taken to the life with an almost religious fervor." Her gaze searched Kratos' impassive face for any reaction to that. "I believe they know, my thane. About you. And I have never heard them mention the Divines once. At least not relating to their personal beliefs."

Kratos was silent for a time. One broad finger slowly and soundlessly tapping the table. "Is this something that requires dealing with?"

Lydia's eyes narrowed, "In my opinion?"

His amber eyes caught hers. "In your opinion."

She immediately shook her head softly, "No, my thane. I understand your reticence… but I do not believe they would ever willingly betray you. Or ask you to be other than you are." She blew out a gusty breath, "The truth of the matter is that, if anything, they are loyal to a fault. I think Lars primary weakness is that he is too prone to following orders. I worry about him in a role that requires too much decision making in the field. He may be too committed to the original orders rather than applying his judgment to the situation on the ground and adapting."

Kratos let out a pleased and somewhat surprised grunt. "Good." He paused, "Insightful"

Lydia gave him a pleased smile, "We will see. I will continue to keep an eye on them and let you know if anything changes." She drained the rest of her mug and sat staring into the bottom of it for a minute, idly swirling the residue. They common room had grown even more crowded and now was bustling with activity. "Well," she said, standing, "I believe I could use another. You?" She nodded as Kratos merely gestured vaguely. Lydia set off towards the bar, weaving between various groups in the crowded room. She reached the bar and leaned against it. Seeing that the innkeep was quite busy she settled in for a wait. No need to add to the man's stress.

A smooth voice spoke out behind her, "Excuse me." Lydia turned to see a tall breton man. He was handsome enough, with warm eyes that had a wicked glint to them. The kind of wicked that had gotten more than a few women in trouble Lydia was sure. "I don't usually do this sort of thing, but you are the most beautiful woman in here by far and I don't think I could forgive myself if I didn't at least _try_ to strike up a conversation." Lydia let out a surprised chuckle at his boldness. "See?" He said with a boyish grin, "I've already given you a laugh. I'm an excellent conversationalist."

Lydia cocked a brow at him but couldn't help a small smile on her face. It was somewhat nice to be treated as a woman despite his obvious intentions. No one in town saw her like that given her station, so he must be a stranger. "Well you're certainly something, I'll give you that."

He made an exaggerated pained expression, "Lady you wound me! At least let me know the name of the woman who has abused me so."

Lydia was struggling to stop her smile from growing, "Lydia."

He bowed with a purposefully humorous flourish, "And I am Sam. It is lovely to meet you Lydia." Lydia's looked over to check the innkeep's progress, still working his way along. Sam's voice brought her back, "You know I would love to get to know you better, but I think that at the very least I need to buy you a drink to thank you for putting up with me so far."

Lydia let out a laugh and gave him a shrug, "Why not?" There were worse things than having some fellow flirt with her and call her pretty. She glanced across the room to Kratos. It's not as if he would mind her dallying for a few minutes.

Sam smiled broadly at her, "You won't regret it. I promise you that." It was at that moment that the innkeeper made it over to them. "What timing! Another for the both of us." Sam paid for the drinks and turned to hand one of the tankards to Lydia. When she had it in hand, Sam raised his tankard with a grin "To a night to remember." Lydia raised her brows a bit at that, but despite the toast raised her own mug in a salute and drank. Her brows shot up, she was surprised at how good the mead was.

She took another drink before replying, "So, Sam, what brings you to Havverfjord?"

He chuckled, "Business. I'm a merchant by trade, not that I'm a particularly good one, I'll admit. I rather seem to be better at finding a bit of fun and maybe a bit of trouble wherever I end up rather than finding a deal." They continued on chatting and drinking for a few minutes and no one, not even Lydia, noticed when Sam seemed to pull more full tankards out of nowhere for them to continue drinking once they had run dry.

* * *

Sanguine was having a lovely time. He had been so dreadfully _bored_ of late. He may as well have been keeping company with Akatosh, that absolute wet blanket Juliannos, or even his bore of a brother Malacath. So gloomy that one. So, of course, he had put on this handy little skin and nom-de plume to go wandering about Mundus as Sam Guevenne. That always made him happy. Sam Guevenne. He really could be quite clever sometimes.

In any case, after a few less entertaining starts he had arrived here at The Red Fox and this was shaping up to be a lovely time. He eyed the woman across from him. She was interesting. He could feel something hanging about her, it was the same essence that hung over this whole town. It was subtle, only something that he had consciously recognized after arriving. There was almost certainly some form of daedric cult here but he couldn't tell quite whose it was. It didn't have the flavor of any of his more notable siblings. It didn't matter to him really. This woman though was clearly special in some way. So of course he had to play his own prank on whatever petty lesser-known daedric lordling had set up shop here and take their favoured mortal out for some fun.

Sanguine smiled as Lydia drained her tankard, "Here, let's us two go outside and get some fresh air." Lydia just bobbed her head agreeably, eyes glazed. Sam smiled broadly and taking her by the elbow led her towards the door. _Oh what a fun night this was shaping up to be! But what to go with? A marriage? Certainly. And there must be a dash of some petty crime across multiple holds. Oh! Embarrassing antics. A must._ Sanguine let out a gusty sigh as they stepped out into the night air. _Oh, what night to remember!_

Kratos at the table lost in thought, one finger slowly tapping against his tankard as he turned things over in his mind. So more people knew or at least _believed,_ and that was perhaps even more insidious. However no matter how he examined it he could see no recourse. He would certainly not kill them, nor would he cast them out or spend their lives needlessly. They were his soldiers now and as such his duty to them as their leader was clear and unfailing. He grit his teeth in frustration. No conversation would help this either. Whatever was said would simply be spun to feed their growing faith and proto-religion. Kratos sat back and rubbed at his beard in growing frustration. There was no action he could take that would not be a betrayal of himself, of his duty. The unfortunate truth of the matter was that he could do nothing. The situation however could not be ignored. He would have Lydia keep a close eye on the situation.

Kratos' amber eyes refocused on the world before him as he shook himself out of his gloomy ruminations. He stiffened abruptly as he became aware of a presence. It had been hidden before but he could feel it now and recognize that it had been nearby - very close - but simply too subtle to pinpoint. He stood quickly and surveyed the common room, eyes roaming. He was just in time to see the inn door closing behind Lydia.

He set off immediately parting the crowd before him like water off the prow of a ship as they scattered from his path. His abrupt change in demeanor caught the attention of others in the Red Fox. Several of his soldiers who were there on their own time exchanged glances and then broke into a mad scramble to follow after him, struggling much more with the crowd.

Kratos burst out of the inn and turned his gaze flying directly and unerringly to Lydia. She and another figure were across the street in an alleyway standing before a doorway of twisting blue light that somehow gave no illumination. They were just stepping through the portal when Kratos saw them. The other figure, a man, turned and looked back at Kratos, his eyes flashing a startling red and his teeth shining far too brightly in the swiftly failing light. Kratos did not hesitate as the strange portal closed but exploded forward nearly faster than the eye could track, the boards of the inn's porch shattered as they failed under the strain.

Sanguine stepped through the portal still smiling. Honestly, he couldn't have planned it better. That being, whoever or whatever he was, was clearly the one that controlled that place, and Sanguine had had the perfect opportunity to proverbially thumb his nose at him. The portal snapped closed with a crack and a hiss behind Sanguine leaving him and his quarry in lovely grove perfectly outfitted or a party with tables full of food and drink and hanging lights all around. A momentary frown crossed his face. It was very strange though that this being had appeared itself, in a body. That was not something of minor daedra. In fact even of the major daedric princes Sanguine was one of the few who actually chose to, or could, walk Nirn in flesh. How very curious. He had to admit that he was now rather intrigued, which added an additional delightful spice to the night.

Sanguine cast a parting bemused look over his shoulder back towards where the portal had once stood and - _What in oblivion?!_ He froze and turned back fully, staring intently at something floating where the portal had been. _Are those fingers?_ Sanguine's jaw slowly dropped in shock as he felt the fabric of this particular one of his myriad realms being pulled asunder as two hands, through brute force, began to tear back open the portal he had come through. He was brought forcefully back to the moment when he saw through the widening gap a snarling bearded face and a pair of blazing rage-filled amber eyes.

Sanguine's own brows snapped down. Now this simply wouldn't do at all for him. This sort of audacity in the face of a daedric prince was untenable. With a hiss he gathered the raw entropic power of oblivion, formed it into an eldritch bolt, and hurled it through the widening gap.

Kratos saw the incoming blast but ignored it, instead focusing on prying back open the portal. The dark crackling energy slammed into him, tearing him from the tear in space and sending him hurtling back into the street behind him. When he landed, he rolled in a backwards somersault, coming up in a crouch. However the portal had already snapped closed and this time he had not been there to catch it. Kratos let out an enraged shout through clenched teeth and punched the ground.

"Thane!" he turned and looked up the street to see Aranea sprinting towards him. As she neared him she slowed and took in the scene. Aranea let out a string of dunmeri words that were clearly profanity. "I was too late! I thought I saw something coming and came as quickly as I could but…" She hesitated as Kratos stood and immediately began pacing, every muscle taut and corded.

Kratos voice was dark and low, "It has Lydia. Where did it go?" It was more of a statement than a question and seemed almost a threat. Aranea closed her eyes, extending her senses and drifted over to the spot where the portal once was. She slowly extended a hand towards it, sensing the ripples in aetherius and oblivion that converged here.

She turned back to Kratos, "This was Sanguine. I saw his coming but too late to provide warning. This portal must lead back to his plane of oblivion, a diverse place called the Myriad Realms. It is a thousand, thousand worlds, each tiny realm its own place of hedonistic revelry."

"Who is Sanguine?" Kratos managed to bite out into the air.

Aranea tucked her hair behind an ear, "He is the daedric prince of debauchery, revelry and darker passions." Kratos snarled at the description. Whatever this being had planned would not be good. Aranea continued, "I will examine this site and commune with Azura. Perhaps we can track Lydia." Kratos only nodded and continued pacing, growing ever more agitated. He could feel an old familiar black rage building inside him, his lips naturally drew back from his teeth in a silent snarl. He could always feel Lydia, like an extension of himself, something that became more pronounced in battle. He sought for that connection, pulling at it, trying to locate her.

* * *

Sanguine stood in the misty grove staring at the spot where the portal had once stood, one hand still extended and smoking. He did not think that his bolt had killed the being. In fact if its face was anything to go by, Sanguine had just made it angry. This was, in fact, turning out to be a very strange night. He had intended for it to be a night to remember, but now was having a seed of doubt that perhaps the night might be memorable for different reasons than he had originally intended. He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed at his forehead. He should really get more information. That meant talking to his siblings. Horrendous. _Not_ what he was hoping for tonight.

He turned and looked out at the gathered revelers in the grove who had quieted somewhat and focused their attention on him, "Well you all just continue to have a good time. I'll join you in a moment." They let out a cheer and went straight back to the food and drink, laughing and singing. Sanguine gave Lydia push in that direction and then set off into the mists surrounding the grove. He paused where the mist truly deepened and turned to look at a dremora hidden in the foggy woods surrounding the grove, "Keep an eye on everyone. Especially our special guest. I will return shortly."

The dremora responded in a dry, harsh voice, "As you will it, lord." Sanguine nodded perfunctorily and set off, stepping through the twists of oblivion to his own private sanctum in the center of the Myriad Realms. The dremora merely turned back to face the revelers, sinking again into the fog and darkness between the eternal trees surrounding the grove. It watched as the revelry continued in the glade. It was not concerned. Time flowed more quickly in the Myriad Realms, all the better to be gone an hour and revel for four. No pursuit would come quickly and how would they even arrive if Lord Sanguine did not allow them? It smiled a silent and cruel smile. Besides, a fair number of those revelers in the grove were actually dremora wearing human or merish guises.

Lydia couldn't seem to focus on anything very well. She was caught in a fog and everything was somewhat hazy. That didn't bother her though, she was having a lovely time after all. She really could not say how long she had been at the party either, which was strange, but again, didn't really matter. She was laughing and reaching for another drink when she felt something odd. It was almost like feeling light of the sun warm her back. The feeling grew stronger and seemed to clear her head, just like the rising sun burning away a morning's mist. She sat abruptly, feeling very strange. Lydia shook her head trying to clear it to no avail. She strained towards that warming feeling, reaching towards it…

A man leaned down and placed a mug in her hands, "Here now, this will help whatever ails you! Trust me. You just need another drink!" Lydia hesitated, growing more aware as the moments ticked by that she certainly did not need more of whatever was in that tankard. The man's eyes narrowed and he pressed the tankard against her lips, "Drink!"

Lydia reached desperately for that sun behind her… and with a sudden clarity, found it. It was not a sun. It was, however, an inferno, a blazing and all consuming reckless anger held together and directed by iron control. Lydia touched it and its strength rushed through her, searing the fog of daedric magic from her mind and leaving her clear and filled with a rage she had never felt before.

Lydia knocked the tankard to the ground and rocketed to her feet, one leg continuing to rise as she leapt off of the stool she had been resting on. Her knee came up like a piston, slamming into the man's midriff. The air burst from his lungs as he doubled over; Lydia helped his descent, siezing him by the hair and slamming his face into the trestle table once, and then again for good measure. Each resounding impact was punctuated by an enraged scream that tore from her throat.

Sensing more than consciously recognizing the approach of another, Lydia snatched a candle stick and spun. With a dull thunk another man went down, bleeding heavily from the temple. The crowd generally was clearing a space around her, the revelers all letting out shouts and cheering on the brawlers. The dremora in the crowd were working their through the commotion towards Lydia. The next man approaching found a candlestick, now adorned with blood and hair, spinning towards his face. He raised his arms to protect his face, taking his eye off Lydia in the process and as a result was wholly unprepared for the tackle that took him to the ground. He let out a grunt as he hit the ground, flailing at her. Lydia slammed his head up, the heel of her hand under his chin and with sharp staccato motions drove her stolen fork into his throat.

Lydia leapt back to her feet, spattered with nigh black arterial spray, hands dripping, the fury sustaining and driving her. Fight. Kill. Escape. She dragged her free hand down her face, over one eye, painting a streak of blood down her visage. She saw more men rushing at her down the line between the long trestle tables in the grove. Lydia shouted her defiance leapt up on to the table next to her and down the other side, shoving other party goers out of the way. They jostled in to each other and, with the now frantic energy of the gathering, an altercation began, and the brawl began to spread like wildfire amongst the manic revelers.

* * *

Kratos felt the instant he 'reached' Lydia, though that was entirely too physical a word, implying distance and contact, for what seemed to have occurred. His blazing eyes snapped to where the portal once stood and he stopped his pacing if only for a moment. Aranea was examining the site, casting spells and attempting in her own arcane way to ascertain the destination of the portal and how to track it. Kratos' voice jolted her out of her muttered examination, "Move!" Aranea leapt back out of the way as Kratos stalked forward.

He hesitated briefly, considering what he was attempting to do, but remembered his experience with magicka earlier. It was not the process. It was will and strength. With a shout Kratos' hands shot forward, seizing upon nothing, but his muscles bulged and strained as if moving a titanic load. He snarled through gritted teeth as slowly his hands drew apart, rending the fabric of oblivion, the shimmering realm between realms visible in the gap. In a final burst of effort Kratos tore the rift wide enough for a man to pass through, and stood holding it open, breathing heavily.

Aranea rushed up to the rift and immediately began chanting and casting spells, after a moment or two her red eyes opened again and she turned to Kratos, "I believe that I have stabilized it for now. It should hold while you do what you must." Kratos said nothing, but nodded his thanks to the dunmer mage.

"Thane." Kratos turned to see a loose group of his soldiers with weapons drawn, Valdr standing in the fore, "We are with you, my lord."

Kratos nodded, "Come then. I have no time to waste." With that Kratos leapt through the breach in space and time. There was an abrupt and unsettling lurch, similar to what he had felt when he arrived in Skyrim, but only the barest fraction of it. Kratos burst out into the open grass at the edge of the grove and took in the riotous scene before him. An enormous brawl was taking place in the center of the grove, the participants howling with rage and laughter in equal measure, and every now and again more serious faced men with glinting red eyes raced from the misty woods that infinitely surrounded the grove to join the madness.

Kratos turned to Valdr who had, without hesitation, come through hot on his heels, "Hold this ground. No one comes through." He looked back to the chaos before him and growled, "I will find Lydia." Valdr nodded and immediately began calling out orders. Kratos did not hesitate but charged straight at the heart of the madness.

Lydia was exhausted but the fire in her veins kept her moving. She shattered a bottle over someone's head, ducked a wild haymaker and stabbed the offender repeatedly with the bottle's broken, jagged neck. Her muscles burned with effort as she continued to beat down any who drew too near. She had nowhere to run, she had seen the endless trees and knew that there was no escape there. All that was left was to spite her abductors with every effort.

Something struck her in the back of the head and she went down heavily, falling across the bench next to her. She felt herself hauled up onto someone's shoulders. She shook her head, trying to concentrate only for the inferno's rage to course through her again, searing away her grogginess. Lydia suddenly hurled her weight to the side, causing the one carrying her to fall, cursing in surprise, against a table, losing his grip on her in the process. Lydia rolled off onto her feet on the other side. Quickly she reached out, grabbing the man's head and slammed it against the table. He lolled stunned for a moment, laying halfway on the table, facing the night sky. Lydia could see the red glint in his eyes and knew this was one of the true monstrous denizens of this place. With a shout she brought a fist down on its solar plexus, driving the wind from its lungs. Lydia reached over and grabbed it by its belt and shirt, with a grunt of effort she heaved it further on the table until its head was hanging off her end of the table. The dremora recovered just in time to hear Lydia's furious snarl and see her descending elbow before its neck snapped.

Lydia could feel that unseen source of strength drawing nearer, but was tackled from her feet as she tried to stand. They went to the ground and the dremora quickly rose up and began raining punches down on her. Lydia bucked wildly trying to displace her attacker while simultaneously attempting to fend off his blows. A nasty shot slipped through, splitting her eyebrow and making her vision swim, her eyes cleared just in time to see a booted foot come out of nowhere and crash into the dremora. She heard its ribs shatter as it was hurled spinning through the air, landing somewhere amidst the brawlers.

Lydia turned her turned her head, coughing and spitting blood. It was then that she registered the furious roar above her and saw Kratos standing over her, axe flashing, cleaving clean through anyone foolish enough to come near them. Lydia took the opportunity to stumble unsteadily to her feet, using a nearby overturned stool as an aid. She stood fully, head spinning, and then stumbled on her first step. She would have fallen but an impossibly strong arm caught her around the waist and held her up. She smiled through bloody teeth when she heard his voice, somehow soft despite the surroundings, "I have you, girl. I have you."

Kratos set off immediately back towards the portal, the leviathan axe in his free hand cutting them a path whenever necessary despite his encumbrance. Kratos broke through the main brawl and set off over the open grass towards the portal where Valdr and the others had established a beachhead. There were a dozen dead dremora surrounding them, these armed, armored and in their true forms. Valdr barked an order and he and three men ran to Kratos, Valdr and one soldier carefully took Lydia while the other two acted as an additional shield for her. As they jogged back to the portal, Valdr put a forced smile on his face and looked into her bruised face, "Here now Redhand. You went and started proper scrap without inviting us! So rude. I expect an invitation next time!"

* * *

Sanguine was sitting in his chamber, it was an opulent affair and various beings cavorted in state of undress throughout it. He, however, sat pensively before a large mirror that served as his means of communication with the other princes. They had been remarkably unhelpful. Malacath hadn't known anything. Boethiah had refused to answer. Azura, who given their past relationship had been a long shot, had simply laughed at him for a while before severing the connection.

His ruminations were interrupted by an armored dremora rushing into the room and up to him, "My lord! There are interlopers in your realm! The misty grove is under attack." Sanguine stood, snarling in anger. The audacity! With a wave of his hand the fabric of oblivion parted and he stepped through the opalescent blue portal he had formed.

Sanguine stepped out into a scene of mayhem. There was an enormous brawl going on in the center, which under other circumstances would be entirely fine. A brawl is its own sort of party after all. But there across the grove were the invaders and their presence could not be tolerated. Sanguine marched towards them, the revelers subconsciously parting before him leaving an open avenue towards his uninvited guests. Sanguine saw the ashen giant from before. This upstart daedra would need to be taught a lesson. They locked eyes across the field and despite wearing his true form now, Sanguine saw recognition in the giant man's eyes. Recognition and fury. Sanguine pulled together another bolt of energy as the man reared his head back, arms splayed, and screamed his rage. He loosed his eldritch blast at the being but he simply barreled straight through it, the bolt splashing across him but accomplishing nothing, as he crossed the intervening space in a single bound.

Sanguine had a moment to consider that he may, in fact, have misjudged the situation as an immense and impossibly hard fist rammed into his face. The blows came so hard and fast that he didn't even have the opportunity to defend himself. What was terrifying was not that there was pain, he had felt pain out and about getting into trouble as Sam, no, he felt damaged. As if it was not just the shell that he was occupying was taking injury but he himself, whatever Sanguine was, was taking the beating as well. As blood leaked from split lips Sanguine had the chilling thought, "_Can I die?_"

The rest of the fighting in the grove had died down as the attention of every being was now focused on the furious, systematic, and brutal beating Kratos administered to Sanguine. Kratos seized Sanguine's head between his two huge hands and delivered a punishing headbutt. Dazed he went momentarily limp and Kratos lifted him off the ground by his head. Kratos waited then, examining the daedra he had so taken by surprise.

When Kratos saw Sanguine's eyes regain their focus he spoke softly, almost to himself, "There are consequences to killing a god." His face hardened then as Lydia's bloody face flashed across his mind's eye, and his hands hands tensed. His eyes bored into Sanguines and his voice was low and dark with rage, "Next time I will pay that price." After a pause he dropped Sanguine to the ground and stepped back. "If you or any of yours cross me or mine again, I will return. And I will bury you in the ash of your shattered realm." He turned and walked back towards the portal. As he neared his mean he stretched out his hand to catch his axe as it came soaring back to him. Valdr and and rest watched him with wide-eyed astonishment. Kratos ignored their eyes, "We go now. Before his pride pushes him to madness." Valdr shook his head quickly and oversaw a well ordered, if hasty withdrawal.

Kratos cast a final look back as he stepped back through the portal. He heard Sanguine's laughter echo through the grove as he pulled the edges of oblivion closed behind him, sealing the portal. They all stood in the alley back in Havverfjord, every one of their number looking at each other in shock, trying to reconcile in their minds what they had just seen, what they had just done. The moment was broken when Lydia let out a pained cough, from where she sat, leaning against one of the buildings.

Kratos went quickly and knelt next to her, gently brushing her hair back from her bruised and bloodied face. A small, lazy smile appeared on her face, showing her red stained teeth, as he cupped her face,"I knew you would come."

She saw the crinkles form around his eyes in his near smile. Kratos gently laid his forehead against hers for a quiet moment before drawing back, "Always." He stood then, and approached Valdr and Aranea who were speaking in low tones. His voice was tense as bit out, "Mage, you will watch for Sanguine or his people." He looked to Valdr and growled out "If they come, they die."

Valdr glanced away to where Lydia was resting before saluting and nodding, his own voice heavy, "With pleasure, my thane."

He nodded to them, "Good." He strode back over to Lydia and gently lifted her into his arms before setting off at a careful pace back to the longhouse.

* * *

**AN:** So it took a bit of time in coming. I fell off the writing horse for a bit. I built a nice new PC and got sucked into some games. But I'm back on a decent writing cadence so hopefully the wait for the next one won't be quite so bad.

I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you did please let me know. If you didn't please let me know specifically why. I am doing this for my own creative outlet, but I'd sure like to become a better writer along the way.

Thanks everyone for reading and immense thanks for those who take the time to review.


	13. Chapter 13

Kratos stood motionless in the dappled light, the sun shining down through the leaves of the trees surrounding him. He stood, arms crossed, as motionless as a monolith and appeared just as unyielding, hardly even seeming to breathe. Several yards ahead Lydia crouched dressed in hunting leathers. She too was completely immobile, still as stone, easily holding the tension of her drawn bow. The silence was complete as they watched the stag take the final step into a gap in the trees of the forest.

There was a sharp thwap as she released the bowstring. The arrow struck the deer low on the body and tight behind the shoulder. With a startled call it leapt forward, stumbled and then dropped where it stood. Kratos let out an approving rumble, "I commend your aim. And your patience. Well done."

Lydia flashed a grin at him over her shoulder and stood, "Well, I have had a good teacher." Kratos merely grunted at that. He eyed the long dagger strapped to her chest, noting several others on her person. She had taken to carrying multiple blades at all times ever since her experience with Sanguine, clearly not wishing to be caught without a weapon again. That was not the only change either. Only a day or two after her daedric misadventure, Lydia had come to him and asked that they add unarmed combat to their training regimen. Of course, Kratos had agreed without hesitation.

A small furrow appeared between his brows; it was not as if Lydia was some naive child, but the experience had been a harrowing one for her. She had been drugged and stolen from a place of supposed safety - out from under his very nose! - and then forced to fight against extreme odds with effectively no expectation of victory, the only motivation being to spit in the eye of her abductors and make them bleed for the privilege of killing her. His gaze drifted off into the woods. He had not said anything to her. It was not a topic that he knew how to approach. It was not one he trusted himself to approach.

"Kratos. What troubles you?" He looked back to see her staring up at him, care plain upon her face. He relaxed then, looking down at her, not realizing himself that his frown faded, or that the corners of his eyes crinkled in what Lydia had come to think of as his 'smile'.

"Nothing." He stepped towards the deer, "Come. We will gut here and finish the animal when we return." Lydia nodded and followed after him, pulling a hunting knife from her belt. She quickly gutted the animal, dumping the viscera but preserving the heart, liver, and kidneys in a game bag. She stood when she had finished, wiping her hands on a rag. Kratos nodded his approval before grasping the front legs in one hand, the back legs in the other and hoisting the animal across his shoulders with an ease that no longer even registered as strange to Lydia.

They walked back towards the town, coming down out of the northern mountains in the easy quiet of two who had spent much time together. Kratos pondered as they went. Perhaps he should not let himself be concerned with Lydia's newfound wary edge. That edge was a lesson taught by experience, and experience is a good teacher, not a kind one. He knew she was strong. More than strong enough to weather this and its fallout. The pendulum had swung but it would come to rest eventually in the proper location. Lydia wasn't one to let herself be derailed by something, no matter how difficult. Besides, even if she did slip, he would not.

When they came out of the woods they saw a pair of soldiers waiting for them. They approached and saluted. Kratos nodded in return, "Report."

The lead soldier spoke, "Hail Thane Kratos, Redhand. Jarl Balgruuf has come to Havverfjord and awaits you in your hall. He wished to speak with you but said that he would wait for you to return from your hunt. Thomas believes he means to spend the night before continuing his journey."

Kratos glanced at Lydia briefly, who simply shrugged, "Very well," he rumbled. "Come." With that they set off again, quickly arriving at the longhouse. It was clear that Balgruuf was in residence. They could count at least 25 guardsmen in the livery of Whiterun and it was a sure bet that there were more scattered through the training yard, barracks, and town. As they approached the steps up to the longhouse, Kratos handed off the deer to one of the soldiers who had accompanied them before climbing the steps.

Kratos entered his longhouse, crossing the entryway in a few long strides and sweeping into the main hall. A few Whiterun guards were scattered about the room and there, sitting at the table, was Jarl Balgruuf who was idly grazing at the fruit that Kratos' housekeeper insisted on putting out. As the role had been entirely self appointed by the middle-aged nord woman, Kratos said nothing despite his complete indifference towards the presence of fresh fruit, or the lack thereof.

Jarl Balgruuf laid down the grape he had been about to pop into his mouth and stood, "Ah, Kratos! Excellent that you've returned." Despite his jovial greeting his face slipped immediately into seriousness. "We need to speak." Kratos merely grunted and walked to a sideboard. He filled the basin there with an ewer of water and began to rinse the blood from his hands and forearms.

Balgruuf looked over at Irileth and nodded at her. Irileth smoothly swept to her feet, "Clear the room. The jarl and thane must speak." The various guards saluted and quickly filed out of the room, the last in the train closing the doors after him, leaving Balgruuf, Kratos and their respective housecarls alone in the main hall.

Silence reigned for a time as the jarl sat, idly rolling a grape between his fingers as he eyed Kratos who, with complete lack of concern, was drying his hands. Balgruuf reached up and rubbed at his brow before breaking the silence, "I do believe I asked you not to further complicate my political position."

Kratos set the towel down and turned to face the jarl. He waited a beat before replying, "I did not."

Balgruuf looked skyward letting out a gusty breath and asked the whispered question, "Why me?" He refocused on Kratos, "And what would you call some 40 or so dead stormcloaks if not a complication?"

"A simplification. A statement."

Balgruuf leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, closing his eyes as he pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Kratos… I do not know if you are trying to be this vexing or if it comes naturally." He sighed once more and sat back, gesturing vaguely with one hand, "Please, enlighten me. How do these dead stormcloaks _simplify_ my position when we are already nearing the brink of open war?"

Kratos folded his arms and leaned back against the sideboard, "Ulfric sent the 40 men to capture me. For what purpose I know not. Those men dead and myself free is the simpler outcome." Kratos shrugged, "Ulfric is a fool. War is inevitable, on this I am sure. Now perhaps he will have some pause."

Balgruuf was silent for a few moments, tapping a finger against the table. He raised his brows expectantly. "Well then. It appears some additional context would be very useful for me."

Kratos remained silent and gestured vaguely to Lydia, who seeing that began a more fulsome explanation. She quickly recounted their journey to Windhelm and the battle with the cultists, leaving out the interlude with dragons, "After recovering my thane's property from a cult in Eastmarch we immediately began heading back towards Whiterun. Our interactions with the stormcloaks had, to that point, been positive. Kratos, for his own reasons, believed that we were pursued and so we cut across country seeking to avoid conflict -"

Balgruuf interjected then, holding up a gentle had to forestall Lydia's explanation, "And what," he inquired looking to Kratos, "were those reasons that made you forsake the roads?"

His amber eyes were unflinching, "A feeling."

Balgruuf waited a moment for any additional detail, but saw no more was coming, "A _feeling_. Thank you. That's -" He stopped himself and turned back to Lydia, "Please, continue your actually _informative_ tale."

Lydia held back a grin, keeping it from her voice as she picked up again, "After days of travel through the wilds, slowed as we were by our recovering wounded, our scouts found signs of pursuit. We decided that rather than try to outrun our pursuers we would meet them on advantageous ground." Lydia paused for a moment, sipping her drink before continuing, "A party of approximately 40 stormcloaks approached. Their captain came to parley with us. He informed us that Jarl Ulfrich wished to speak with Kratos and that they were to escort him to the Jarl without delay. Kratos refused. The stormcloaks then attempted to compel him through force. We routed their force without losing a single man." Lydia could not help the force and pride with which she spoke the last sentence.

This was not lost on Balgruuf, nor was the twitch at the edge of Kratos' lips, the barest hint of an inclination to smile. He rubbed at his forehead before speaking, "Very well. Your actions, as usual, seem defensible if perhaps extreme and incredibly undiplomatic." He and Irileth exchanged a look before he continued, "I agree, however. War appears to be inevitable."

Kratos nodded, "Ulfrich is a fool. He will war amongst his own people rather than face his true enemy."

Balgruuf nodded, "On that at least we agree." He took a deep breath before continuing, "We will need soldiers... Whatever happens, we will need soldiers. To that end, you have a blank check, thane. Raise and train troops. Whiterun will help foot the bill." Blue eyes met amber ones. "Our people must be protected."

Kratos gave a slow nod of respect and agreement, "It will be done."

Balgruuf stood suddenly, breaking the intensity of the discussion, "Good. Then we should be on our way. If I am forced to attend that damn Thalmor embassy party then I will at least spend some time in Solitude beforehand to make the trip not a complete waste." He and Irileth headed to the door. Irileth opened it for him and Balgruuf made to step out before turning back, "Oh and Kratos? The _next_ time you complicate my life, tell me about it. I may have spies, but - timely information, thane. I need timely information." With a final wave Balgruuf stepped out, Irileth on his heels, always watchful.

The jarl and his housecarl quickly gathered their men and set off westward towards Solitude. They were barely outside of Havverfjord, riding at the head of the column of guardsmen, when Irileth abruptly turned face Balgruuf and stated bluntly, "You indulge him, my jarl. I fear too much at times. And I do not understand why."

Jarl Balgruuf smiled, showing strong white teeth, "Ah, my dear Irileth, I do not think that you fully appreciate the situation."

Irileth snorted, "He is an upstart. An imposing one. But an upstart nonetheless and he flaunts your authority."

He shook his head gently, raising one finger in objection, "He does not flaunt my authority, for he does not directly oppose it." He let out a small sigh, "You fail to realize what he is, Irileth."

She squinted at him, somewhat perplexed, "A thane."

He shook his head again, chuckling grimly, "No, Irileth. He is a sabrecat." He turned and looked at her, expression deathly serious, "And he is one that we hold by the tail. A sabrecat that I am trying to keep between me and the enemies." He grimaced, "A sabrecat that I do not want to turn on me."

Irileth's eyes narrowed in anger at the implication of threat to her jarl, "If that is the case my thane, then perhaps it would be better to put the beast down rather than trust its intent."

"I do not think that he would be so easy to kill. Surely you have heard the stories, the rumors."

Irileth rolled her eyes, scoffing, "Rumors! Fanciful tales from the marketplaces and taverns! Surely you can't be serious."

Balgruuf was quiet for a time thinking back on a very interesting visitor that he had received a couple weeks prior. The man had been shown into the jarl's study late one evening by a guard who begged Balgruuf's pardon for the interruption. Waving him off Balgruuf had asked the stranger, "Who are you and what message do you bring in such secrecy that you circumvent my steward?"

The man had dropped the hood of his cloak, revealing long dark hair that was losing its battle with grey, "I am Brother Captain Caius Valerius of the Vigil of Stendarr. And I think there is something that you need to know. However, I would have your oath of discretion not to repeat what I say further except in dire need." What had followed had been an illuminating and terrifying evening for the jarl, but one that, he must admit, simply made more sense than it didn't considering everything that he had seen up until this point.

Balgruuf shook his head focusing once more on Irileth and the present. He sighed, furrows of concern on his face, "I fear, Irileth, that there is more truth to those tales than either of us is comfortable with." Truly this was a place he had never thought to be. Skyrim divided. The Empire weakened. The Thalmor. And now… a being - of unknown origin and capability - who nominally owed him allegiance. He chuckled ruefully, this was not something that any of his father's lessons had prepared him for. He could only follow the dictates of conscience and the highest good for his people, then at least he could have some comfort on his course.

He turned to Irileth with a small smile, "Have some faith. I have the situation in hand." He grimaced then, "At least dealing with this has been less unpleasant than dealing with Elenwen and her nest of vipers will be. Nine! I cannot stand that woman."

Irileth only nodded solemnly, "Such a comparison is only an insult to vipers, my jarl." He let out a bark of a laugh at that.

"Too true, old friend. Too true. And yet that is where we are going. At least we can make a small holiday out of the trip."

* * *

Lydia awoke the next morning before the sunrise, as always she arose quickly and slipped on her leathers and mail, foregoing plate for the moment. She padded out of her room holding her boots in one hand and her sheathed sword in the other. She padded down the steps into the main hall of the longhouse, navigating easily despite the darkness.

A single burning candlestick sat on the floor, illuminating Kratos. He knelt, sitting back on his heels, hands laying relaxed on his legs, as still and motionless as if carved from stone. The faint light of the candle flickered and shifted across the craggy plains of his face. Lydia placed her boots against a nearby pillar and leaned her sword up against it as well. She straightened and walked over to him, kneeling by his side in a similar posture. She remembered his lessons and simply existed focusing on her breath, on this moment, on calming her mind and easing that itch of wariness that she could not seem to shake anymore. Time passed. It was then that Lydia could almost see - see? Was that even an applicable concept? - light from her left and feel it like the rays of the sun warming her cheek. Just as she had felt it in the Myriad Realms. A constant. A source of strength.

She was aware that someone else had entered the room, but maintained this open state for a few more moments before opening her eyes and standing in one smooth and easy motion. Their self appointed housekeeper had lit the lanterns in the room and was setting out their breakfast; she was a remarkably small and wizened breton woman with grey hair drawn back in a simple bun. She finished setting out the meal and gave Lydia a gentle smile before bustling off back to the kitchen.

Kratos rose as well, standing to his full height and taking a deep cleansing breath before sitting down at his place at the table. The housekeeper, Agatha, came in again, bearing a pitcher of water that she placed between the two of them. Kratos bowed his head as she did so, "My thanks." She said nothing, only smiled and went off to do… Now that she thought about it she was not entirely sure what the woman had decided were the scope of her duties. Lydia only knew that they certainly hadn't come from Kratos. Perhaps Thomas had. Or perhaps much like the role itself she had simply decided what she was going to do. Lydia shrugged to herself and began eating.

Soon enough Thomas and Aranea came down to the table. To one degree or another Kratos habit of rising early had spread to most of those in his close proximity. Aranea had always woken with the dawn, but as the dawn and dusk were times of import to her Lady, she spent those times in solitary reverence and contemplation.

Kratos looked up from the porridge he had been eating mechanically. Lydia noted that he always ate whatever there was without complaint or any sign of preference. Truly it seemed to be something that simply did not matter to the man. He turned his head to look at Agatha who was hesitating in the doorway, fussing with a rag in her hands. She cleared her throat, before speaking, "Apologies, thane, but there's a stranger knockin' at the rear door. She said that she was someone you'd want to speak with - but I didn't let her in or such like, never seen her before and she didn't give any name."

Kratos let out a rumble that Lydia labeled as inquisitive, before he set down his spoon and stood, "I will see to it. Thank you." Agatha smiled and bobbed a quick little curtsy before hurrying off. Kratos strode after her heading to the rear door which connected through the kitchens. He opened the door to reveal a hooded figure that was leaning against the exterior longhouse wall with their arms folded. "I am here. Speak quickly."

The figure let out a throaty chuckle, before casting back the hood to reveal a wealth of thick golden hair and a pair of deep emerald eyes, "I forgot. You sure don't waste words do you, Kratos?"

"Dragonborn. What do you want?"

She broke out in a toothy grin, "Manners, Kratos," She chided gently. "Invite a girl in?" Kratos' eyes narrowed minutely, but he stepped back, out of the doorway. The moment he did she swept into the longhouse, "Thank you. Now, we should talk."

Kratos merely grunted and began walking back to the table. Sigrunn followed after him, ignoring the disapproving looks that Agatha was shooting her way as they passed by the kitchen area. When they returned to the breakfast table, Kratos returned to his place and began eating once more. Sigrunn hesitated, still standing and looking at the others at the table. She exchanged a nod of respect with Lydia before speaking again, "Thane, it would be best if we spoke in private."

Kratos set his spoon down once more and looked around the table before shaking his head, "No. What needs to be said can be said here." His eyes met the dragonborn's. "I know my people."

Sigrunn shrugged and sat down, "Fair enough. I will trust your judgment."

Kratos nodded, before turning to the dark elf, "Aranea. Can you…?" He gestured vaguely with a finger, indicating the room generally. She nodded with a smile, white teeth startling against her dark skin. Aranea stood and raised her hands, coated with the shimmer of magicka, and let out a pulse that passed over the room.

She sat down again, "We will not be overheard, thane." Kratos nodded his thanks before looking back to Sigrunn.

She was quiet for a moment more, idly twirling one of the forks that had been set out, before speaking again, "I have a lead. To what exactly I don't know. But there should be information on the return of the dragons. Hopefully something concrete on the why and how."

Kratos ran a hand over his beard, "Good. But you are here and not chasing it. What do you need?"

Sigrunn let out another chuckle, "Fair enough. Yes, it will be dangerous. I wouldn't mind the support."

Kratos shrugged, "I can retrieve it."

Sigrunn narrowed her eyes a bit at that, "No. This is going to require a lighter touch. Stealth is our first and best avenue here," She cocked an eyebrow at him, "and I'd wager I'm a better burglar than you are. You're not exactly inconspicuous." Kratos merely let out a rumble and sat forward resting his forearms on the table. Sigrunn continued, "No, what I need is support. It is possible that stealth will fail. If that happens I want an extraction team to help get me and the information out." She shrugged, leaning back in her chair, "And I'd wager you're the best around for that."

Kratos nodded, thinking over what she had said. He was loathe not to handle this directly. Information had been scarce and Farengar had turned out to be an abject failure as a source of information. That man was more smoke and mirrors than magicka. Still Sigrunn had brought this to him. She had shown trust. "Very well. I agree with your plan. What is this lead?"

Sigrunn smiled at that, "Excellent. I'm glad we could agree. Delphine has reaso -" she was interrupted by derisive snort from Kratos. Sigrunn arched a brow and continued, "Delphine has reason to believe that the Thalmor have information regarding the dragons and their return and that they may even be involved. Ambassador Elenwen has been gathering information and their files are all in the embassy. The place is a fortress, but in a few weeks time there is a party where they will be hosting a huge party and most of Skyrim's elite. A lot of moving parts and a built in distraction. It's the perfect time to steal their files." She made a walking figure with her hands, "I tiptoe in and, if all goes well, tiptoe out with no one the wiser. Or if something goes sideways, my backup," she gestured to Kratos, "smashes everything and burns the place to the ground."

Kratos looked up from the table where he was idly tapping one thick finger, "Delphine is paranoid. Ruled by her hate of the Thalmor. She would grasp at any shadow to blame the Thalmor."

Sigrunn shrugged, "Fair. And I agree. But the Thalmor hate something outside of their control. Either they are involved in this or they are trying to figure it out. They have a huge network of spies and agents, gold for bribes, and political clout for leverage. If anyone could turn up something it's them. They'll know something." She ran a hand through her shining hair, "I'm not blind to her irrationalities." She smirked, "Though I have heard that there isn't any love lost between you and the Thalmor either."

Kratos' hand on the table had become a fist, "No. No, there is not." After a beat he relaxed it once more. "Very well," he nodded.

Sigrunn leaned back, "I will be attending the party under a false name. We have a contact that can get us proper invitations." She cocked an eyebrow, "That won't work for you though. You're a little too unique to pass off," she flipped her hair with a hand, "whereas I'm just another blonde of middling height in a land of blondes."

Kratos shrugged, "It is no matter. As you say, I stand out. It would not do to attend the party myself and draw attention." He shook his head, "No, we will wait nearby, prepared to assist. Anything else invites reprisals on Whiterun and its people."

Lydia tried to hold back a smile, "Jarl Balruuf would be overjoyed to hear you say that, my thane."

Kratos snorted, "Contrary to his opinion, I do not seek to create trouble for him. It is merely a natural consequence."

Sigrunn was squinting at them from across the table; she wagged a finger between the two of them, "As much as I want to know what issues you two have been making for the poor jarl, I need to be on the move." She sighed, "I am unsure, but I may be under Thalmor surveillance and I don't want to bring additional attention down on you or our association. Especially before the operation." She stood, "I will go to Solitude now. Gives me time to practice my cover. By a dress. Get drunk."

Kratos moved to stand as well but she waved him back down, "No need. I can see myself out. I'll be staying at the Winking Skeever by the way. Do drop me a line so that I know you're in the area. We won't really have any opportunity to confer before going in there. I'd like to know that I'm not going in with no support." With a final flippant salute she turned, pulling up her hood and went out the same way that she had come in.

Silence reigned at the table for a few moments. "Well!" Lydia let out with a huff, "That was interesting. So we are robbing the Thalmor embassy?"

Kratos nodded, "Yes. We will leave under cover of night. Avoid roads."

Lydia nodded along, "Understood. If she's under surveillance, we may be as well. We need to maintain plausible deniability. They may act against us, but at least it will keep them from retaliating against us or Whiterun openly."

Kratos let out a grunt of approval, "Yes. Indeed." He turned to regard Thomas, "Put the word out. We are increasing recruitment. Also we will need additional infrastructure, barracks, smiths, weapons. The locations we have already discussed with the city planning."

The steward bowed his head, "As you say, thane."

They were quiet again for a few moments before Lydia spoke again, "Are we going to tell Jarl Balgruuf about the robbery?"

They were all silent for a minute,"No. But we will tell him afterward." Kratos paused, thinking, "In a timely fashion."

* * *

AN: A bit of a slower paced chapter but somethings that I wanted to cover and hopefully the interactions were still enjoyable for everyone.

Big thank you to all of you reading this and especially everyone who takes the time to review! I can't let the guest reviewers know with a personal message so I'm doing it here.


	14. Chapter 14

It was a chill evening in Haafingar hold. The sun had set and the sourceless grey illumination of twilight was fading swiftly into the darkness of night. Kratos and Lydia crouched in the cover of a copse of pine, keeping careful watch on the compound before them. Lydia glanced over at her thane, who was as monolithic and still as stone in his watching, seeming not even to breathe. Kratos was wearing hunters' leathers rather than his customary attire and a hood that covered his face in shadow, leaving only his beard visible.

When they had set out in the small hours of the morning to get in position under cover of darkness it had occurred to Lydia that it was strange to see Kratos without most of his torso exposed to the elements. The thought drew a smile to her face. Surely any other housecarl would find the opposite to be true and think it strange to have their lord galavanting about in so little. Kratos hadn't been pleased about the change but had recognized the necessity of maintaining some form of plausible deniability, which would be impossible with his pale skin and tattoos on display. Now he simply looked like a very large man. This was Skyrim, you could find men of his size.

They had met with the Dragonborn a few days earlier to go over their plan, which was simple. Sigrunn would mingle at the party and slip away given the opportunity. She had memorized the layout of the Thalmor embassy and would make her way to Elenwen's study where any intelligence was likely stored. Kratos and Lydia would be on standby to support in the event that stealth failed and, as Sigrunn had put it, she needed to set fire to the place on the way out. Kratos' barely audible rumble broke the stillness that reigned in the alpine air, "The last carriage departed the embassy an hour ago. It is time we move."

Lydia cocked a brow at him, though the gesture was likely lost as only the stars and a sliver of moon shone that night, "All appears still. Why risk exposure?"

"It is a reasonable chance to take. From this distance we may not see the earlier signs that our intervention is needed."

She bobbed her head, "As you say, thane."

Kratos pointed to a place where one of the buildings of the compound came nearly all the way up to the 15 ft. iron fence that surrounded the embassy, "A foolish choice to build so close to the perimeter. We go there." They had observed the watch schedule for some time, and waited for a few minutes until the various Thalmor guards patrolling the courtyard and outbuildings were furthest away from their target. "Go." He muttered softly and Lydia immediately set off through the snow. Kratos followed after her with a small bough in one hand, obscuring their tracks behind them.

They reached the fence in short order. Kratos dropped the branch and turned to Lydia, "Are you ready?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, "For?"

"To get to the roof." He gestured vaguely to the building that sat only a few feet away on the other side of the fence.

"Yes?"

He nodded, "Good." Lydia's brows knit as Kratos stepped behind her and put his hands on her waist, "Bend your knees. Jump when I tell you."

"Kratos, are you going to throw me?"

A moment of silence reigned, "Yes… Jump." With clenched teeth, Lydia jumped, only to rocket upwards propelled by Kratos' arms. She soared up and forwards, her stomach lurching with the acceleration. She reached the peak of her "jump" about a foot above the roof and landed gently, having no distance to fall and little forward momentum. The roof was gently angled and blessedly clear of snow, easy enough to traverse. Lydia turned back in time to see Kratos crouch and leap in the same arc that he had thrown her, landing beside her on the roof.

Kratos nodded to her, his voice coming out in a whisper that still somehow managed to be both low and rough, "Well landed. Come. Let us watch from the peak." Kratos wasted no time and crawled to the peak of the roof, barely peeking his eyes over the apex so as not to silhouetted against the sky. Lydia followed suit though soon enough it would be sufficiently dark that the precaution may not be needed. They lay on the roof looking down on the courtyard below and the idly circulating guardsmen as they went about lighting the torches for the night's watch.

Lydia wasn't sure how long they had been waiting on the roof, likely not more than 15 minutes, when Kratos looked over and breathed, "Be ready. She is in the courtyard." Lydia nodded back and immediately began hunting for any sign of the dragonborn, but she could see nothing. She paused and took a breath, closing her eyes. She breathed deeply and tried to do as Kratos had directed in the past and 'reach out'. So Lydia reached out to Kratos next to her and out into the courtyard below. She opened her eyes and looked again. Lydia still saw nothing but… her eyes seemed to catch near the door to what she assumed was where the Thalmor kept their dirty secrets. It was the only door with a guard permanently stationed on either side. Lydia focused there not entirely certain why, when it all abruptly became very apparent.

* * *

Sigrunn had to admit, she thought this whole thing was going rather swimmingly all things considered. Afterall, she wasn't really a burglar but so far things had been going so well! She had met her contact and arranged for her invitation and gear to be smuggled into the embassy. She had even been quite pleased with how her dye job and makeup had turned out for the party itself. She had looked pretty good if she did say so herself. The quick change in the kitchens was a little hairraising. Nothing quite like being pretty much naked in enemy territory. Her face split in a silent smile at that.

She hadn't liked the cost but finally after some haggling she had been able to acquire enough invisibility potions to cover herself for the foreseen duration of her heist. She'd even built in buffer time all along the way. All she needed was patience and she would do just fine. Sigrunn gently eased open the small leather satchel strapped tightly to her side and pulled out another potion, she carefully felt the carving on the top of the stopper that she had put there which told her the potion type and duration. She was coming up on the end of her last dose, so she carefully pulled the stopper and drank it down before replacing it in its slot in her satchel. She took one last look around, the detect life potion she had consumed earlier confirming there was no one about, and slipped out the door into the courtyard.

Sigrunn smiled again at the completely cleared courtyard walks. This small spell of warmer weather had been a godsend. If there had been snow recently, invisibility or no, she was sure that the guards, even if they were Thalmor, would be sharp enough to wonder why footsteps were appearing randomly on the walkways. She crept across the courtyard slowly, keeping a careful eye on the guards and the ground for anything that might make noise and give away her position. All the while she kept silent count in her head of the time since she had last re-upped her invisibility.

Soon enough she reached the doorway to Elenwen's solar. She recognized it from the maps her informant had provided, but the two guards on either side of the door were also a dead giveaway. She reached them in short order despite her slow pace. One of the guards at the door, who had a mark of rank on his arm, had a prominent ring of keys at his belt. Sigrunn eyed the door, the keys and mentally sighed. It was certainly too much to hope for that Elenwen would just leave the door open for her. She examined the keys for a moment before squinting and looking back to the door. Of course. Elenwen was such a pretentious prat. _Of course,_ she had a fancy key that matched the moldings and ironwork on her door.

Sigrunn reached out slowly for the keyring, trusting her hand eye coordination. It was after all very disconcerting to reach out and not see your own hand, so you had to be extra careful with your depth perception. To her the trick seemed to be not overthinking it. The moment you did, you lost all body self-awareness. All she had to do was be the only one holding it and her invisibility would cloak it too.

Sigrunn's eyes shot wide open. She could see her hand! She looked up and locked eyes with the equally shocked justicar she was currently trying to rob, "Uh... Hi?" The elf went to take a breath that cut off abruptly into choking, as a precise strike from the dragonborn crunched into his adam's apple.

* * *

Lydia's eyes went wide with shock when the dragonborn popped into existence between one moment and the next. Kratos did not waste an instant. He was up over the peak of the roof before Sigrunn's first punch even made contact. He slid down to the edge of the roof and without hesitation or pause, dropped immediately to the ground. Lydia had been hot on his heels up to that point, but the nearly 30 foot drop made her stop and take a hesitant breath.

Lydia looked down and saw Kratos waiting below her. He raised his hand and beckoned her. Lydia paused for a bare moment, the chill wind tugging at her hair, before she shrugged and simply stepped out into nothing. She had time to swallow as the ground rushed up at her, but instead of a true impact there was only the somewhat jarring deceleration as Kratos plucked her from the air. He set her down quickly and drew a simple but large iron greatsword from his back. It was strange to see him without his axe, but they were trying to maintain plausible deniability at least.

Kratos bolted across the paths and careful landscaping of the embassy's enormous courtyard, too fast and too quiet for a man of his size. Justicars were stalking across the space, attracted by the ruckus of the dragonborn dealing with her sudden visibility despite no true alarm having yet been raised. One of these justicars was jogging forward, hands outstretched and charged with destructive magicks. Without slowing Kratos leapt from the darkness, shearing off the elf's hands with a downward blow. The justicar gaped breathlessly, winded by the shock of the sudden trauma, he had only time to note the spurting stumps of his arms and the dull, spinning gleam of a greatsword before Kratos rammed the point of it through his skull.

Kratos turned, whipping the greatsword in an arc, flicking the blood off the long blade and spattering the cobbles with crimson. Across the courtyard Kratos saw another hooded justicar stepping into the light of a hanging lantern. Lydia came hurtling out darkness in a great leap, a flying superman punch with the edge of her shield. With a horrendous wet crunch, the force of the blow spun the justicar from his feet and slammed him into the stone walk. Lydia landed and spun instantly, sword descending in a bright flash. Arterial spray marked the pristine snow and splashed the housecarl's face. Never ceasing her motion, Lydia bounded away again into the darkness. She did not see Kratos teeth shining in the dark, bared in a lupine grin.

Kratos looked around the courtyard, assessing the situation. Sigrunn had dealt with the two at the door. Lydia was hunting another confused sentry. Stealth was past. The alarm was moments from being raised and perhaps already had been. The lack of trumpets were possibly only due to the unwillingness to admit to any threats while so many important dignitaries were within the embassy walls. It would certainly be a blow to the reputation of the Thalmor if the attack were ever to become common knowledge. This would play to their favor and buy them precious time to complete their objective and escape the embassy.

Kratos ran over to the dragonborn, stooping to snatch a shortsword from the justicars corpse on his way. He arrived just as Sigrunn was pushing open the door to Elenwen's solar, "Dibella's left tit!" she hissed in frustration, "That is one finicky lock." She looked over Kratos' shoulder to see Lydia dashing up to join them. "Lovely of you both to join me. But let's take this inside." Taking her own advice Sigrunn swept into the building, axe in hand. Kratos waited at the door, waving Lydia in. His keen gaze pierced the dark of the expansive, manicured courtyard, he could see justicars starting to trickle in from various outbuildings as well as the main embassy.

Kratos stepped inside and quickly shut the door after himself. Immediately he stabbed the point of his stolen shortsword into the small gap between the door and wall on the hinged side. With a short, powerful wrench he snapped off tip, leaving it to lock up the door. He repeated the process twice more in rapid succession before shoving the last part of the blade still attached to the hilt under the door, locking it in place with a solid kick. He turned back to the two women in the entryway with him, his voice was a barely audible rumble, "Be swift. This will not delay them long." Sigrunn merely glanced back at him and gave him a short nod from the end of the entryway where she was pressed up against the wall, stealing glances around the corners.

Sigrunn beckoned them forward, "We are clear for now." She pulled her other axe from its loop on her belt, "This isn't a burglary any more." A feral grin flashed across her face, "Now it's a robbery. Let's move." No sooner had she turned back to head deeper into the building than they heard a voice accompanied by approaching footsteps.

"Sanodil, what was that commotion?" Sigrunn crept to the edge of the wall and crouched axes at the ready. "It sounded like you bumped into something. If you knocked over one of Elenwen's vases… Well. I'm not covering for -" the elf cut off as Sigrunn stepped out from the corner, slamming the blunt reverse side of one of her axes into his solar plexus. The elf doubled over as the wind was blasted from his lungs. Without missing a beat, the dragonborn caught the top of her other under his chin and straightened him out, pinning him to the wall with the flat top of her axe. The axe that had dealt the original blow was already cocked back again, and so she stood, one arm extended, pinning the spluttering elf and the other back, raised, and prepared to split the Thalmor's skull like a melon if he so much as breathed wrong.

"Shut up. Shut up!" She hissed in a low voice, "Stop coughing." Her lip curled a little, "Pull yourself together. Now. You have a choice. Tell me where Elenwen's keeps her private documents and I hit you with this end." the haft spun in her hand so that the blade of the axe head was facing back and the blunt backside faced the elf. "Don't and I will hit you with this end," she spun the blade back to face him, "repeatedly. Your own mother won't recognize you." He opened his mouth but Sigrunn interrupted, pressing the axe against his windpipe, "Not yet. We will find what we want either way. All you get to do is decide if your life is only worth slightly inconveniencing us. Talk."

The elf nodded slowly and then spoke slowly at first, but soon enough he was babbling as quickly as he could. After she'd heard what she wanted Sigrunn cut him off with a sharp rap to the temple, dropping him to the floor like a sack of wheat. "You get that?" Kratos and Lydia remained silent, short nods their only reply from the sentry positions that they had taken up on either end of the hallway while the momentary interrogation took place.

Kratos set off, following the directions that the elf had given them, heading down a hallway deeper into the building. According to their captive it opened into a large atrium. From there they could access the suite that housed Elenwen's offices. To the elf's knowledge that was where Elenwen kept her documents, not that he was in her confidence he had been quick to mention. They were creeping down the long hallway keeping as silent as possible, there was no point in inviting any further conflict.

Suddenly a dark silhouette stepped out across the entry to the atrium. "Cover!" barked Kratos. He and Lydia plastered themselves against the wall and Sigrunn dove to the floor as two bolts of lightning came roaring down the hall.

"Multiple intruders! I _told_ you I heard something!" came the shout from the atrium. In the space of a heartbeat Kratos, Lydia and the dragonborn were charging down the hallway again, having no desire to be caught with no cover.

More Thalmor stepped out and began launching spells down the hallway. It was a mad scene, bolts of lightning acting as strobe lights and showing flashes of the frenetic action. Sigrunn hurled an axe as she juked, avoiding a spear of ice. Her target managed to jerk to the side in time, receiving only a cut on his shoulder rather than an axe to the mouth. Sigrunn herself was not as fortunate. She let out a curse as a bolt of electricity caught her low and blew her legs out from under her, knocking her back and to the ground.

Simultaneously, Lydia was also hard at work dodging blasts of magicka aimed at her, occasionally managing to angle her shield to deflect the odd spike of ice here and there. This dance took her full attention but even so she couldn't help but notice that Kratos appeared to be simply stalking down the hall, flowing effortlessly around the different spells hurled his way, every motion the absolute minimum movement necessary. But then Lydia zigged when she should have zagged. She was off balance and knew there was no way to avoid the lightning bolt that was about to come into being and roar down the hall.

Lydia's eyes widened when Kratos' hand shot out, interjecting itself between her and the mage's outstretched, magicka laden hands. The very next instant the bolt of electricity blasted towards her and Kratos didn't block it, so much as _grab_ it. Kratos seized the lightning bolt and with a snarl clenched his hand around it, pulling more magicka from the aether causing the bolt to become a searing charge of energy that illuminated the hall. Kratos spun hurling it back towards the shocked Thalmor mage who had cast it originally. A thunderous boom resounded through the building as the spell split the air, leaving a glaring after image printed on everyone's retinas.

Despite the bright flash Lydia was able to see the effects of Kratos' work. The Thalmor mage who had been the target was blown from his feet and slammed into the far wall, nothing more now than a hunk of charred meat still jerking occasionally as the electricity continued to dissipate. One of the other justicars was unfortunate enough to be too close and he was writhing on the ground from catching one of the ancillary branches, steam rising from his convulsing form.

The three justicars who were still conscious were momentarily stunned by the display of magical force, not to mention the light and concussive force of the thunderclap that had occurred in their midst. Sigrunn and Lydia were quick to capitalize on the situation. Sigrunn had just managed to regain her feet and hurled her remaining axe as she moved forward on jittery legs. This shot was clean and the spinning axe took the elf in the side of the head and straight to the ground.

Lydia and Kratos had burst into a simultaneous charge quickly covering the ground between them and the dazed elves. Kratos was the faster of the two and he rushed in close, not bothering to draw his sword, and delivered a punishing elbow to the elf's face, shattering his jaw and dropping him to the ground in a bloody ruin. Lydia was hot on his heels and leapt in, leading with a stab, driving a foot of sharpened steel through the Thalmor's chest before knocking the elf off of her blade with a swing of her shield.

Lydia bent and wiped her blade off on the robes of the justicar she had run through, ignoring him as he gurgled, choking on his own blood as it pooled in his lungs and on the floor beneath him. Sigrunn gathered her axes and gave one of the dead a swift kick, "Divine's curse it!" she spat, shaking herself all over, "I _hate_ that feeling! Of course the damn Thalmor just _had_ to use lightning!" She took a deep breath before looking to Lydia and Kratos, "Are you two ready? We need to be quick now." She arched a brow at Kratos, who merely narrowed his eyes at her, "_Someone_ made a fair amount of noise just now." Kratos merely let out an indistinct rumble and turned to face the doors on the far side of the atrium. Sigrunn ignored Lydia's glare as she approached the door to Elenwen's offices. Sigrunn let out a grumble as she bent to examine the handle and reached for the ring of keys she had taken earlier.

She was interrupted as a booted foot blew past her and smashed the door open, sending the jamb flying into so much kindling and splintering a good portion of the door itself. Sigrunn let out an indignant huff and straightened as Kratos brushed by her into the room. He ignored her expression and spoke as he walked into the office suite, "As you said. Stealth is past." Lydia followed, unable to fully restrain the smile on her face.

Elenwen's office was exactly what Lydia would have expected. Luxurious materials, dark wood, lots of papers and books, big desk. The three exchanged a glance and wordlessly split up, tossing the place as quickly as possible. Only moment's later Lydia called them back together. Behind the desk was a fairly large locked chest. Lydia shrugged, "Perhaps it is too obvious, but it is clearly the most secure location in this room."

They exchanged glances before Sigrunn and Lydia turned to look expectantly at Kratos. He let out a small snort and stepped up to the chest before, in a sudden, violent motion, driving his fist down through the lid of the chest. He reached in with his other hand next and simply pulled the lid apart. Sigrunn's eyes were wide until she noted Lydia's absolute lack of surprise, at which point she took on a more contemplative look as she glanced between them.

Lydia stepped up and pulled some papers from the broken chest skimming through them quickly. At one missive her brows shot up. "Look here. There is a dungeon beneath this building, she has a note to herself to tell the torturers to keep it down at certain hours." Kratos' face was as always impassive, but his two nord companions were grimacing with disgust. "If I were to hide anything incriminating a secret dungeon seems like the place to do it."

Sigrunn nodded, "They weren't on the plans, but there was an oddly small storage basement… it must be accessed through there." She nodded, "Follow me." They moved quickly through the building, following after Sigrunn, when Kratos suddenly held up his hand. Lydia immediately froze and after a moment Sigrunn followed suit.

Kratos turned back to the dragonborn, "They are at the door. We have no time. Quickly now." Sigrunn nodded wordlessly and took off at a run. Such speed in enemy territory was a risk, but having the entirety of the Thalmor descend on them from behind was a larger one.

"Here!" cried Sigrunn pointing to a non-descript stairway leading down, "Let's go." They descended into a small storage room with an obvious door in the far wall.

Lydia's brows drew together, "They're not exactly hiding it are they?"

Sigrunn shrugged, "It's in the center of their power in Skyrim. Who's going to say anything?" She spat to the side, "And of course they are just that bloody arrogant." She raised her brows at Kratos and gestured at the door in invitation. Kratos looked back at her for a moment before walking up to and then through the door, his kick blasting it open without even breaking his stride. The two women flowed in after him, weapons gleaming and held in ready hands.

They came out upon what was essentially a small balcony overlooking a large open room. There were cells set into the far wall and near them in an open area was an ominous looking chair equipped with iron restraints. There were dark stains and tools on a table nearby that left no doubt as to the purpose of both the dungeon and the implements.

"Halt!" Cried a voice. It was a haughty and imperious altmer who was standing next to the table of torture devices. The elf sneered, "I do not know who you are, but you will soon be overrun. I give you this chance to turn and flee now." With a smile Sigrunn sauntered up to the banister of the balcony and looked down at the elf on the level below as he continued to rant. "If you do I may be generous enough not to put you to the question once you are inevitably captured for your trespasses."

In a move no one, least of all the altmer, expected, the dragonborn dove head first off the balcony. Once her body was aimed she _spoke_, "Wuld." The power of her thu'um carried her forward instantaneously past and to the side of the elf. Sigrunn rolled expertly and came to her feet, shaking the blood from her axes. The altmer, who was still facing the balcony, turned slowly towards her shock writ large across his face as blood pumped from the ruinous gashes in his neck and side. With a confused gurgle he collapsed. Kratos merely let out a bark of amusement and descended the stairs. Lydia had already run down after the dragonborn and was frantically searching the papers on a desk in the corner.

Sigrunn pulled a ring of keys from the jailer's belt and headed for the doors. She paused seeing Kratos' look, "I know we have little time, but I am not going to leave anyone here to be the Thalmor's plaything." She shook her head, scowling darkly, "Not when I can do something about it." Kratos merely shrugged and went to search for information on the dragons' return.

Kratos approached another obviously locked chest and again simply destroyed its lid. He reached in and brushed aside the splintered wood, withdrawing several leather wrapped folios of documents. "Girl." Lydia looked up and seeing the documents came over immediately. Kratos passed her one when she approached. Lydia immediately began skimming the documents, these were detailed dossiers and files on numerous important parties in Skyrim… jarls, imperial generals, and many others. The information was clearly sensitive. Any of these people would raise oblivion if they knew they were under such surveillance. If the Thalmor had anything on the current dragon crisis it would certainly be in here.

One file in particular caught her eye, _Kratos, No Surname_. Lydia glanced towards the man himself and then over to the dragonborn. Seeing that she was still occupied freeing the prisoners Lydia slipped Kratos' dossier under her armor where it would be safe before she turned to where Sigrunn was freeing the last of the two prisoners from their cells and called out, "Hey! We found them. We have what we need."

Sigrunn nodded in reply, "This man says that this trap door here is another way out. It leads to a tunnel where they dispose of the bodies. We can use it to - " She cut off abruptly as they heard the tread of numerous feet overhead. She continued in a low hiss, "Over here!"

Kratos and Lydia hurried over to where the dragonborn and the prisoners were huddled around a trapdoor set into the floor. Kratos went down to one knee by the trap door and muttered, "We need to delay the Thalmor. I can open this easily but we need to discourage pursuit."

A broad grin spread over Sigrunn's face and a feral light came into her eye, "One thing I love about Skyrim, they use a lot of wood to build." She gestured to the wooden supports scattered around the dungeon and beams above them that supported the floor overhead. "Wood burns. Open the hatch." Sigrunn stood and walked into the center of the room and looked up to the balcony area they had entered through.

In the meantime Kratos opened the trap door, ignoring the stares of the prisoners as he tore it free from its hinges, shattering the mechanism and casting the ruins aside. He looked over at Lydia and gave her a nod, "Lead them." She nodded and sat dangling her legs down the hatch. Kratos took her free hand and lowered her down before dropping her the last few feet. She quickly drew her sword and took stock of the cavern she had entered. It was clearly a natural tunnel, no evidence of toolwork that she could see. She looked back to see several torches scavenged from the dungeon fall through the open hatch.

Back in the dungeon, Kratos examined the prisoners. They were in poor condition. One, a bosmer woman, especially was shaking badly. He let out a deep breath, "Give me your hand." He held out one of his own enormous hands to her that she slowly took. He lowered her through the trap door as if she weighed nothing, which was nearly true given her time in the Thalmor dungeon. Quickly he lowered the other prisoner down into the tunnel knowing Lydia was more than capable of handling the situation.

Kratos was still crouched by the trap door to the tunnel and turned to look at Sigrunn. The footsteps were coming down into the basement area now. "If you are going to do something, do it." The dragonborn ceased her deep slow breaths and flashed him a hungry and sharp edged grin before looking back, taking on last deep inhale and shouting, "YOL TOR SHUL!" She held the last syllable of the shout, pouring a torrent of flame from her gaping mouth, the velocity of the blaze carried it up into the basement and further from there where the roar of the fire was accompanied by the screams of those suddenly caught up in it. She cast her head about pouring flames through the dungeon. The dragonfire, for that is truly what it was, latched onto anything and everything, hungry as a living thing.

The dragonborn turned back to Kratos, an almost manic smile on her face, her eyes shining from the blaze that surrounded her. She took a few shaky steps towards him before stumbling. She would have fallen had Kratos not swept her up. Sparing not a moment's attention for the inferno around them he ran back to the tunnel and immediately dropped through into the cool darkness. The cavern felt cold as ice after being in the oven that consumed itself above them. Kratos set the dragonborn down gently, "Are you well?"

She nodded slowly, breathing heavily from the heat and the exertion, "I will be fine. I just got a little carried away in there. Give me a minute."

Kratos straightened and looked down at her, "No. We must go now. Time is not our ally." Sigrunn glared up at him, but cut off her words when she saw his extended hand. With a sigh she took it and let him pull her to her feet. He looked at the two miserable prisoners in their rags and let out a heavy breath. "We go now." He locked eyes with Lydia. She would keep the train together and moving. "Lydia, rearguard." She responded with a quick salute with her sword. He glanced at the rest of them, "Follow." Kratos set off down the tunnel immediately, trailed by the prisoners and a grumbling dragonborn.

The tunnels were not easy to traverse and were certainly not pleasant. The ground was rough and uneven with innumerable small stones and outcroppings to catch and trip the unwary. There were also all of the bones and general effluvia that came from being the chosen dumping ground of the Aldmeri Dominion's torturers. This of course had also attracted… scavengers. Kratos had ranged far ahead of the group specifically for this purpose. He did not want to be forced to deal with the complications of a close quarters fight with multiple non-combatants in the area.

Despite the fact that they were not present for the event, the prisoners were rather unsettled when they came across the corpse of a troll that looked as if it had been bludgeoned to death with one of its own forcibly removed arms. This was, in fact, exactly what had happened. The tunnel was too in many places to use the greatsword he had brought along, so Kratos had resorted primarily to his fists.

Soon enough Kratos came to the end of the tunnel and stepped out into the frigid Skyrim night. He immediately doused his torch in the snow and took cover near the entrance of the tunnel. The stars were bright enough to provide sufficient illumination. He waited in silence until the others exited the tunnel. His voice cut through the still night air, "Put out the torches. They expose us." Lydia was already in the process of putting hers out and Sigrunn swiftly followed suit.

Kratos turned to Sigrunn, "Head south immediately. Get out of the mountains. Make your way from there. Do what you will with those two." He jerked his head in the direction of the prisoners. Kratos then began shucking off the heavy leather jerkin he was wearing, Lydia ignored it and approached Sigrunn catching her arm.

"What happened in there? Things seemed to be going well until…"

Sigrunn spat viciously to the side, "My potion gave out early. I thought it was off. Bastard sold me a watered down brew. Hides-His-Eyes is going to have to have to hide himself, because I am going to find that lizard and take this out of his scaly hide!" She let out a sigh that soon morphed into a grin as she looked westward. "Ha! See that glow over the ridge? I said I'd burn the place down." Lydia merely chuckled and shook her head.

Lydia looked back to Kratos and saw him handing his jerkin to the shivering woman. He stood bare-chested now, which was frankly more the norm than not. He went and snapped off several pine boughs and brought them back to Sigrunn, dropping them in front of her, "Drag those behind you to obscure your tracks. We will go east and leave a clear trail. Perhaps they will fall for a simple deception given an easy trail to follow."

The bosmer woman, now wrapped deep in the coat Kratos had given her, approached and laid a hand on his arm, "I just wanted to say thank you. For everything." She smiled tiredly and stepped back again.

Kratos nodded gently, "You are welcome." He looked to Lydia who nodded her own readiness, "And we must go." He gave the dragonborn a severe look, "Keep me informed."

Sigrunn grinned back, "I will. Promptly. My word on it." Kratos let out a rumble at that, conveying his lack of conviction. Wasting no more time Kratos and Lydia set off to the east at a quick pace, blasting through the snow and leaving a clear and broad trail behind them.

* * *

Onmund was frustrated. He was not pleased to have been assigned this week to the Saarthal excavation. He sighed, this was not what he had come to the college at Winterhold for. He came to learn magicka, to work with the fundamental forces of creation and eventually to become their master! He did not come to scratch at old rocks. "Ah but the history, Onmund, can't you feel it! And the elves with the blah, blah" he parodied Master Tolfdir's voice.

Onmund walked back into the same boring old room he had been cataloguing yesterday, carrying a box of files and writing implements. He set them down on a small folding table in the corner with a sigh and rubbed his face. Divines, this was just so boring. He caught a glow out of the corner of his eye and spun to face it. There in the floor, off to one side of the room, something was poking up out of the floor. Burning its way through would be a better description, it was melting the stones of the floor as it pushed its way up into the room.

Onmund approached slowly, cautiously to get a better look at what this was. It was some sort of strange blade… he did not recognize the workmanship. But the heat coming off the thing! Divines it was intense! And the aura that this was giving off… clearly it was something powerful. With that much heat and magic it was almost as if it was pushing its way in through oblivion itself. Onmund blanched at that thought. He was about to turn away when he saw a second point rising next to the first. Onmund shook his head and backed away slowly keeping his eyes on the strange objects slowly searing their way through the floor and quite possibly the fabric of reality.

Onmund stopped when he bumped into the rickety table, overturning all of his files. He paid them no mind but turned and bolted from the room yelling at the top of his lungs, "Tolfdir! Master Tolfdir!"

* * *

AN: Well I hope it was worth the wait. Things, as you can imagine, have been a little crazy recently. Work has just been a mess. Hopefully things will even out as we get a better handle on the whole virus situation or at least acclimate to a new normal.

Hope everyone out there is happy, healthy and that a new chapter can alleviate the cabin fever for a few minutes. I really appreciate you all taking the time to read and appreciate even more those who take the time to let me know what they think.

Stay safe everyone.


	15. Chapter 15

To put it simply First Emissary Elenwen was furious. She sat in a small, though well appointed, office in the embassy which had, until recently belonged to one of her senior justicars. That elf was missing and presumed dead, likely consumed by the inferno that had so immolated one of the embassy buildings that it had collapsed in on itself, down to the deepest sub basement. Only a still smoldering crater was left of both the building and Elenwen's office suite.

She sat, glaring across the too small desk at the wall beyond, only her iron control keeping her from lashing out. This was untenable! An attack during one of her parties, during what was supposed to be a show of strength! This was a great loss of face for the Thalmor here in Skyrim.

They had only one witness, he had been found unconscious and severely beaten, but still alive. He was fortunate enough to have been dragged out only minutes before the building was set ablaze. Even he had had little of value to add. Two women and a man. All hooded with no identifying features revealed. The only thing that had stood out from his account was the size of the man. She had her suspicions, mainly because she, like Julianos, did not play with dice, and did not believe in coincidence.

Yes, there were many large men in Skyrim. But there was _one_ large man who she believed had recently butchered several of her justicars. He was also responsible for a certain strengthening of Whiterun's position as a neutral party. Jarl Ulfrich seemed to be taking additional time to consider his move on Whiterun Hold. Frankly, it would not do. This civil war was ideal for the Dominion. Yes they had won the war, but the sad truth was that Elenwen was concerned if they could win the next one. Altmer were long lived beings, with a life span 3 or more times longer than that of a very long lived man, but commensurately they had a lower birth rate as well. Yes, the Dominion had won. But the Empire had recovered.

This new Thane was a distraction and an unnecessary wrinkle to an already less than ideal situation. All that aside, the intelligence that her agents had gathered on the man was disturbing to say the least. Elenwen narrowed her eyes, yes, it would be simpler to remove the issue from play all together. However this was not something that she wanted the hand of the Thalmor to be directly involved in. Elenwen smiled a pointed and vicious smile. No, this would be best handled by… third party experts.

Elenwen let out a cruel chuckle as she penned the missive. She had heard rumors of Whiterun's new thane. More to the point her network had brought her word that there was a faction of the Vigil of Stendarr that believed the man had some form of divine blessing or possibly was in some manner divine himself. She scoffed at the mere thought. These Nords were so primitive at times, willing to cast the label of divinity at anything without an immediate and obvious explanation. It was no wonder that they clung so tightly to the dead myth of Talos in this backwater province.

She was keen to see another bit of Skyrim superstition put to the blade. Let them all see how blessed or divine this jumped up brute really was when he was found knifed or poisoned. Blessed Eight but Elenwen hated this place. At first the appointment to First Emissary had seemed like such an advancement for her career and in truth it was but she didn't anticipate how bloody insupportable it would be to be constantly hobnobbing about with the nords.

Elenwen completed her letter with a flourish and, of course, no signature. "Ciralinde!" she called.

A robed thalmor woman appeared nearly instantaneously, "Yes, First Emissary?"

Elenwen gestured vaguely with the finished letter, "See that this is delivered to our acquaintances near Falkreath." The other woman took the letter with a bow and left the room quietly, shutting the door after her. Elenwen steepled her fingers and sat considering the broader scope of things. It was only a matter of time before the war began again. If the broader Thalmor government was not already sending out provocateurs and saboteurs it was time to begin laying the groundwork. Another great war was inevitable. She only hoped that those in positions of power still had the stomach to do what was necessary.

* * *

A chill wind ripped through the wilds above Dragon Bridge, rushing over the drifts of snow and sending trails of crystalline flakes dancing into the air. Kratos stood perched on a rocky crag overlooking the steep decline from the mountain into the valley and town of Dragon Bridge below.

The justicars had been dogged in their determination but ultimately ineffective. They had been unable to catch up to Kratos and Lydia as they had fled and in their rush the altmer had been ill-prepared for an extended trek through the frigid and inhospitable mountains of Skyrim. The natives of the tropical and temperate Summerset Isle were simply poorly suited for the brutal cold.

Kratos breathed deep the alpine air, closing his eyes as he did and exhaled slowly. He gazed out again over the monumental vista before him. These high places of the world called to him. There was a stillness and beauty that seemed to be unique to such places. He understood why that being, a daedra, had her place of power in the area.

Kratos had felt the daedra as he and Lydia had trekked through the rough, high country in their escape from the embassy and their pursuers. It was not an entirely accurate metaphor, but their awarenesses had brushed up against one another. Kratos had sensed her curiosity and perhaps… an invitation? Kratos let out a snort. He had ignored her, but it did bear thought. He may need more information on these beings if conflict was inevitable. He was not certain, however, that it was inevitable. His brow furrowed as he remembered Sanguine's abduction of Lydia, perhaps not inevitable with this unknown daedra. His sense of this being was significantly different than the oily, cloying, and sickly sweet essence of Sanguine.

Kratos raised one hand and scratched at his beard idly. Perhaps the elf mage would know more of this being lurking in the mountains of Solitude. It was possible that she was not set against Kratos, and also possible that she was not as distasteful as Sanguine. He glanced back to see Lydia poring over one of the dossiers from the embassy. His eyes narrowed slightly, he had thought that they had all gone with the dragonborn. No matter. Kratos looked back out over the vista and returned to his meditations.

Lydia was behind him, further from the ledge and was intently examining the leatherbound dossier. This was the first time they had had much time to rest as they were confident that they had well and truly shaken their pursuers. She skimmed the first page quickly. She was right! This was a Thalmor intelligence dossier on Kratos himself. "Kratos…" she said slowly, eyes still glued to the pages. She looked up upon hearing an inquisitive rumble. Kratos was looking back at her, one eyebrow raised in a silent question. "They have a file on you. They've been keeping an eye on you."

Kratos merely snorted disdainfully, "As they should. Perhaps they are not entirely incompetent." and turned back to examine the view once more. Lydia sat, looking at his back, waiting for him to say something else. She felt odd reading something that was, by its nature, very invasive to someone she knew, like an invasion of privacy. Of course with Kratos it was always better simply to ask.

She cleared her throat, "Do you care if I read it?

"I do not." he rumbled. Lydia hesitated a moment before shrugging minutely and began to read. She was almost immediately interrupted, "Read carefully. If there are hints of informants or traitors we must know."

She winced at the thought, "I can't imagine that anyone of our people would betray us to the Thalmor."

Kratos nodded slowly, still looking out over the valley, "Indeed. That is what makes it betrayal." A chill which had nothing to do with the mountain air went down her spine at those words. For all that she was almost certainly the person on this plane of existence who knew him best there was still so much that she didn't know about Kratos. Those words and the weight behind them underscored that for a bleak moment. She shook off the feeling and returned to her examination of the dossier.

Name: Kratos

Surname: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Race: Assumed to be Nord

Height: 6'10"

Weight: ~350lbs

Primary directive: Observation and assessment

Subject was abruptly made thane of a holding in Whiterun Hold following his participation in slaying a dragon.

Rumors circulate that the subject was primarily responsible for killing the beast. Eyewitness accounts have been difficult to collect. Soldiers present have been consistently reticent to discuss the events at the western watchtower.

Note: Possible that Jarl Balgruuf issued a directive to suppress discussion of the events. Motive unknown.

Subject took possession of Havverfjord holding and immediately rooted out bandits that had been operating in the area. Subject has begun to train soldiers. Their training regimen is abnormal but appears to be effective (see addendum A). The holding appears to be undergoing significant economic growth as well.

Initial assessment: Subject is an unknown. Recommend providing catalyst event to garner additional information.

The following pages were a form requesting authorization to send a party of justicars to find or fabricate Talos worshippers in Havverfjord and the authorization itself, signed by the first emissary. Lydia shook her head, marveling at the gall of the Thalmor, but she couldn't help the small wry smile that formed on her lips when she continued reading and saw the report on finding the broken remains of those justicars. She shook her head in a kind of wonder at the recklessness of their actions. Though she supposed that she couldn't really blame them. Afterall how on Nirn could they know what they were dealing with? They had no idea that they had inadvertently poked at a _god_ just to see how he would react.

Lydia continued to read, following Kratos' directive to try to read between the lines and assess where the Thalmor were actually getting their information from. It was strange for her to read of events where she had been present examined from the perspective of the suspicious Thalmor agents. Fortunately, to her eyes at least, it did not look like they were any informants or agents of the Thalmor placed close to them. The dossier relied on hearsay and rumor, something that was constantly critiqued in the reports. Havverfjord after all was a small and tight knit community that had become extremely loyal to their new thane.

Information, of course, did slip out but it was always in whispered and unsubstantiated rumor. Lydia snorted softly, to be fair, if a woodcutter had told her that he had heard of a man who tore a hole in the open air with his bare hands and jumped through, she wouldn't have believed him either. The truth ironically was their best defense. It was so outlandish as to be unbelievable and in Lydia's mind the Thalmor would simply never accept it. How could they accept that a god from beyond Nirn was walking around Skyrim?

She did see one heavily redacted report that was submitted to the First Emissary which seemed to be toying with the idea that Kratos was some new kind of being from Aetherius. The report mentioned an internal document from the Vigil of Stendarr that put forward the idea that Kratos was aedric in origin. It was difficult to tell too much as good sized portions of the text had been redacted with heavy swipes of ink. However it was safe to say that this was not something the Altmer were seriously considering. The following report was essentially a retraction and apology for the prior submission, noting that a new case agent had been assigned to oversee the process, one not prone to indulging "flights of Nordic superstition."

The dossier showed that the Thalmor were growing more and more perturbed by Kratos over time. In particular they focused on his growing core of elite soldiers, expanding influence in Whiterun Hold and his confrontations with Ulfrich and the stormcloaks. There were several filed opinions that more significant "measures" were appropriate as he had been identified as a threat to "stated regional objectives."

Lydia looked up as a shadow fell across her and the dossier. Kratos came and sat down next to her. He gestured to the dossier with a jerk of his chin, "What does it say?"

Lydia let out a sigh, before a shadow of a smile tugged at the edge of her lips, "Well… they do not like you, my thane." Kratos let out a snort, turning to look at her and she could see the humor glinting in his eyes.

His voice was dead pan, "I assumed. But what do they say in their… papers?"

Lydia looked back to the dossier, "They know as much as anyone, my thane. They have gathered all of the common information about you." She looked up at him again, "They believe you killed the justicars though they do not have proof. Moreover they generally see you as an impediment to their goals for the region." Her eyes narrowed, "My impression from the progression of reports is that you are becoming a sufficient impediment that they may consider trying to move against you somehow. Maybe some attempt to get Jarl Balgruuf to strip you of your title, or reduce your influence in the hold." She hesitated momentarily, "I wouldn't put an attempt on your life out of the question either."

Kratos let out another snort, "They are welcome to try. I do not care about these elves or their plans. What are these goals of theirs that I somehow impede?"

Lydia shrugged, her face puzzled, "They do not say here." Her brow wrinkled in thought, "It could be as simple as they don't know what to make of you and don't want to take a chance." She blew out a gusty breath, "Far be it from me to understand the twisted maze that is the Thalmor. There is something you should know though. There is a report here that says that someone in the Vigil of Stendarr put forward the idea that you are an aedric being. The Thalmor of course disregard that as nonsense." Lydia let out a bemused chuckle, "They came across the truth but can't bring themselves to recognize it."

Kratos nodded slowly, "Good. But what of our people?"

Lydia shook her head, "Nothing I read there leads me to believe that we have a turncoat or informer in our ranks. Only general rumor and hearsay here." She let out a laugh, "I don't think that anyone of ours would turn on us. Also I think that Lars and his boys would gut anyone who tried. The man worships you, Kratos." At her words Kratos, who was already standing still as a statue, somehow seemed to stiffen even more.

Lydia's brows drew together in concern when he murmured, almost inaudibly, "I know. I can _feel_ it." After a moment's pause he shook his head and turned to look out over the valley again. He scratched at his beard before speaking again, "Good. That is good." He turned back to Lydia and walked up, extending his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, "Come. It is time we left. We should get back to Havverfjord."

* * *

"Halt!" Kratos boomed and instinctively both groups did exactly that, harkening to a voice of pure command. Kratos stood with a party of his soldiers. They were green troops, unproven on the battlefield, and they needed field experience. He had many such men these days as following Balgruuf's directive he, or rather his retainers, had begun to recruit aggressively. The need for combat experience is what had led them to this camp in the wilds. Kratos had heard that a group of brigands was heading south through Whiterun hold, likely making for Falkreath, and saw it as an opportunity for his newer recruits.

Now here they stood, the place where they had tracked the criminals from their latest attack. Kratos, Lydia, and his men arrayed in a semi circle, pinning a camp of bandits back against a steep escarpment in the foothills of southern Whiterun Hold. Kratos' voice blasted out again, "I give you _one_ chance. Surrender or die."

One man in less dilapidated equipment stepped forward and raising his weapon shouted back, "You'll never take us alive!"

Kratos' voice resounded across the area, "No. I will not." He turned to Lydia. "Redhand, see to it." The bandits began to scramble, snatching weapons and forming up. Lydia immediately started barking orders and the slaughter began in short order. Despite how new the soldiers were, they had still been put through a brutal and rigorous training regiment by Kratos and Lydia and had been living and working with professional soldiers the entire time. The group of assorted bandits and highwaymen accustomed to robbing farmers and the odd traveling merchant were entirely unprepared for the wave of steel crashing down on them.

Kratos ignored the battle entirely and turned to go walking slowly away. The result was a foregone conclusion. All that remained was to formalize it with blood. He stopped at the edge of the clearing and stood pondering, ignoring the clash of steel and the screams of the dying behind him. It had not been overly long since he and Lydia had broken into and burned down a portion of the Thalmor Embassy. A few days ago they had received word from the dragonborn regarding the stolen intelligence. Agatha, the housekeeper, had found the note slipped under the kitchen door of the longhouse when she awoke one morning and had immediately brought it to Kratos.

The letter had been unsigned and curt but the sender and the message had been clear enough. "Our friends in Haafingar had no information. Chasing down another lead. Will contact you when I have more." Unfortunate. Kratos' brows drew together, the entire situation was irritating. He could crush his foes, lead men to victory, and win wars. Research and chasing rumors were not his strength and he recognized that.

Kratos drew his mind back to the present moment when he heard Lydia's familiar steps approach from behind. He turned his head to look at her as she stood beside him, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively.

She shrugged, "They're green, but they are improving. It's not as if this was much of a test. These roving bands are large enough or dangerous enough for that." She paused for a moment, considering the situation, "To be fair I think that this has more to do with our expectations than anything. They are soldiers and I would hold them up against any others across the various holds." She shook her head and smiled ruefully, "But they are not our veterans."

Kratos nodded, "They will be. But your point is well taken." He scratched at his beard, "Casualties?"

Lydia made a dismissive gesture with one hand, "Minor injuries only. Against riffraff like this?" She scoffed, "If one of ours had been dumb enough to die, I'd drag them back from Sovngarde so I could kill them myself! Dying in some bandit scuffle…"

Lydia smiled when Kratos let out a huff, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. Her grin broadened. He may as well have thrown back his head and laughed. She knew what that meant. It was good to see him laugh. Or at least what counted as a laugh for him. She knew that the lack of progress and the embassy turning into a dead end had been frustrating for her thane.

Kratos looked down at Lydia, "Well done as always, girl." She saw the corners of his eyes crinkle, and she smiled back as he smiled with his eyes. He laid a hand on her shoulder, "Form them up. It's time we returned." Lydia reached up and gave his hand a squeeze before turning back to the soldiers, her face becoming hard and businesslike again. After a moment's assessment she began shouting orders and organizing the soldiers for their return trip.

Their return trip went quickly, much faster than their departure as they did not have to have any care in following tracks. Kratos and his contingent arrived back in Havverfjord after being on the road for only two days. As they approached the longhouse, Lydia touched Kratos on the shoulder, "I will settle the men, my thane, and then meet you inside." Kratos merely nodded and thumped up the steps and through the door.

No sooner had he entered than a warm voice called, "Back already, thane?" Agatha, Kratos' self appointed housekeeper swept into the room. The little gray haired woman smiled at him before clucking, "Tch, you're all dusty from the road. here, go sit down at the table and I'll bring you a basin to freshen up, yes?"

Kratos nodded to her, "My thanks, Agatha. Yes." He went into the great hall and sat in his customary chair. It was humorous to him that this woman had decided to run the household and couldn't help but try to mother him to some degree. He knew that Lydia and the rest of his retainers found it funny as well. To Kratos though he saw the simple honor in the woman.

She was without guile and simply went about doing good, not caring very much about rand or station, simply seeing a need and filling it. Thomas had told him that Agatha had marched in one day, said that the state of the longhouse was getting to be a disgrace and that she simply wouldn't have it any more, so she was moving in and was going to take care of things from now on. Oh, and dinner would be served at 7:00. Kratos had respected her boldness and competence and she had been a fixture of the house ever since. Every meal had come through her kitchen and had been a step up from sending someone to the inn each night for food. She had proudly told him in the past that she didn't let anything, food or drink, through those kitchen doors that she hadn't tasted and made sure was good enough for his table.

Agatha bustled in and set out a basin of water and a couple of towels for him to freshen up. She set them out on the sideboard for him and then turned back to him, hands on her hips, "Well, thane, I'll bring you some wine as well. That should take the taste of the road out of your mouth. Thomas has some correspondence for you as well. I'll fetch the letters. I dare say the wine will help those go down smoother as well." Without waiting for his reply left the room, still very quick on her feet for her age.

Kratos looked after her for a moment, before letting out a little huff and going over to the side board. He dipped his hands into the basin, sluicing off before wetting one of the cloths and wiping down his head and neck, cleaning off the dust of the road. He was just finishing up when she came back into the room carrying a tray. She set it down at his place, "Here are the letters and your wine, my thane." She smiled at him almost conspiratorially, "There's a lovely eidar cheese I picked up this morning in the market, a nice crusty bread and some jazbay grapes. Just a little something to keep body soul together for a big man like you."

Kratos gave her a nod and an affirmative rumble after which she smiled, turned, and left the room. He took his place at the table and sat motionless for a time, looking at the tray before him. His lip curled slightly at the letters. Surely all things in which he had _no_ interest. This was the downside of command, dealing with mundane and oftentimes political matters. Putting it off for at least a few moments more, he tore off a crust of bread and spread it with some soft cheese. Goat, maybe. With chives.

Letting out a deep exhale, Kratos broke open one of the letters and began scanning it quickly. With a derisive snort he tossed the letter to the side. Some invitation from a thane up in the Pale for various drivel with obviously shoehorned in mentions of the man's daughter. Kratos poured a generous serving of wine into his tankard. This would be trying. He took a long pull from his tankard and opened the next letter. This one at least was somewhat interesting. A proposal from a merchant regarding supplies necessary for the town. Better handled by Thomas, however, so Kratos set it aside for further review and continued working through the missives.

Abruptly Kratos stiffened. Something was wrong. He rocketed to his feet so quickly that the force of it overturned his chair and sent it skidding along the floor behind him. He sprinted through the longhouse, his feet thundering along the floorboards. Not slowing enough to take a corner properly, he bounced off a wall with a resounding thud, jolting a wall hanging from its moorings. In scant seconds he was in the kitchens.

Agatha lay on the floor. Her precise grey bun now half undone, strands of hair across her face and unseeing eyes. Her body was contorted, every muscle tense in a horrible rigor. Kratos paused for a fraction of a second before his voice shook the building, "Lydia! Aranea! To me!" That done, Kratos knelt and gently turned her over onto her back. He slowly brushed the hair back from her face and gently closed her eyes.

Lydia burst into the kitchen, sword drawn, when she took in the scene she let out a gasp, "Divines!" The sword drooped in her hand. "Kratos… what has happened?" Aranea entered then at a run as well, a hand flying to her mouth.

Kratos straightened and looked over at them a snarl on his face, "A poisoner. A coward."

Aranea took a slight step forward, her hands already beginning to shine with magicka, "My thane, have you been poisoned?"

Kratos let out a bark, "Yes. It is irrelevant and will do nothing." Aranea slowly lowered her hands, their light dimming. Kratos looked down at Agatha, his face softening, and said quietly, "She served nothing without checking its quality. A poor repayment for a dutiful woman." He looked back up at the others, "The poisoner is likely gone. Even so. Lydia, take a detachment, question all strangers in the town. Detain them if you are not satisfied." He took a step towards her, "Do not just listen," he reached up and gently tapped her temple twice, "but _hear._"

Lydia nodded her understanding, consciously reaching out with her other sense for the feeling of Kratos' presence. Her face was hard and grim, "It will be done. If they are here still, I will find them." Lydia turned and dashed from the room.

Kratos returned his attention to Aranea, "The wine was poisoned. Examine my cup in the hall. Glean what you can. The assassin is likely gone. We will need some trace to hunt them back to their lair." Aranea nodded slowly and went to the main hall, leaving Kratos alone with the body. He looked down at her for a minute, silence reigning in the room. "So frail." He blew out a breath and then bent, scooping up the body easily. He took her to the small room in the longhouse that was hers and laid her on her crisply made bed. He went to the door but paused looking back at her, "Duty for duty." he said bowing his head to her.

Kratos walked into the hall and saw Aranea working at the table. She had a satchel next to her and various items strewn about her from gemstones, strange knick knacks to fluted glass tubes and vials, alembics and other alchemical equipment. "When will we know something?" he asked without preamble.

Aranea didn't look up from her work, keeping her crimson eyes focused on the vial she was heating, "It will take a few hours. What I can tell you now will not be new information or particularly helpful." She removed the vial from the magical flame she had conjured, "The poison is incredibly potent. This was made by someone with true skill, a master of the art. They didn't want to take chances." She ran a hand back through her hair, "What I can't tell you is what ingredients were used. I imagine that will give us some clue as to the provenance of the poison, or at least a lead to follow."

Kratos nodded, "Good. Do what you can." He paused for a moment before continuing, "If you need anything else, tell me. I will get it. I want them found."

Aranea nodded, "For now, no. I will let you know if that changes. I have always kept my kit well stocked." She shrugged, "I expanded it only recently… I fear… I fear I misinterpreted something. That I saw but did not understand. I know gazing into the shifting twilight of Moonshadow is difficult but.."

Kratos' voice cut her off, "No. Blame lies with the hand that did this and the voice that ordered it." He caught her eyes and his voice softened, "Your guilt is purposeless. You carry only the weight of your own actions" Kratos turned to go, stalking out of the room, but called over his shoulder, "Tell me when you learn something."

It was a few hours later that they gathered again in the great hall. Kratos and his retainers sat around the table, the spirit in the room was oppressive, filled with Kratos' anger. He stood at the head of the table, palms on its surface as he leaned against it. "Lydia. What have you learned?"

Lydia looked to him from her place at his right hand and hesitated for a moment before clearing her throat, "Unfortunately, not much. No one in the town recalls any strangers of note over the past few days." She rubbed at her forehead, "Of course this is presuming that the poison was placed in recent days and not weeks or even months ago."

Aranea interjected, "If I may?" Kratos nodded at her to continue, "I examined the bottle. Agatha did not keep large stores of that particular wine in the longhouse. I spoke to Thomas to confirm this, but Agatha would take trips to the inn a few times a week to restock rather than stock up." She paused briefly looking down, "I think she enjoyed the trips."

Lydia blew out a gusty breath, "Well thank the Divines for small favors. The poison would have to be placed in the last two days then. No assassin would risk poisoning a bottle at the inn." She looked around the table, "The wine has grown more popular in the town and now is drunk… well if not frequently, at least often enough that poisoning a bottle at the inn would have no guarantee of making it here. It would be much more likely to be consumed by one of the townsfolk and that would destroy the element of surprise." She folded her arms and shook her head, "An assassin would not risk it."

She continued, "However that still leaves us with very little. No one that stuck out has passed through. Only the normal merchants and travelers. Either they were never noticed or they are still in town." Lydia looked down at the table, "The soldiers and I will continue to investigate but as now.. I have little to offer. I am sorry, my thane."

Kratos shook his head, "This was well done. I would not expect the assassin to leave a trace. It is no fault of yours." He turned his attention back to Aranea, "What of the poison? And the body?"

Aranea held up a vial containing a small amount of dark liquid, "I believe that I have isolated the poison. It is a distillation of crimson nirnroot, river betty scales and emperor parasol moss. along with general alchemical reagents." She paused looking at the vial for a moment, "This is a virulent poison." She looked at Kratos, "I suppose I should not be surprised that you are unaffected but… any of us would have died in minutes. And I know of no antidote that would counter such a toxin."

Thomas spoke up, "I have never heard of such ingredients," he gestured aimlessly, "aside from the river betty of course. I assume they are rare."

Aranea nodded solemnly, "Extremely." She paused, swallowing, "I do not have concrete evidence but…" she trailed off staring at the vial in her hand.

"Speak."

Aranea looked at Kratos, brow furrowed, "I believe there is only one organization in Skyrim that would have the stealth, resources and alchemical expertise for such an undertaking. Also there is the fact that you are a thane - a prominent one - in a major hold with the favor of your jarl. No random bandit or rogue did this."

"Aranea." Kratos' voice was firm, "A name."

"I believe it was the Dark Brotherhood, Kratos."

Kratos' hand clenched into a fist and his voice was low and dark, "Then they have made an enemy."

* * *

AN: This did take a bit of time to get out but hopefully it was worth the wait. Big thanks to every for reading and especially to those who review. Specific feedback really is like gold to me.

Stay safe out there everyone.


	16. Chapter 16

Tolfdir sat in the cold torchlit room, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He had been standing for some time but had eventually brought a chair in from the rest of the excavation. He idly stroked his beard as he considered the strange items before him. They had no idea what they were. Well, they were strange short swords, that much was clear, but no ordinary pair of swords melted their way up through bedrock into an ancient ruin, or had long chains running from their pommels.

He sat a fair distance back from the blades, but could still feel the heat emanating from them. The heat was more pronounced than before almost as if in warning. Tolfdir's brows furrowed, and a warning it was. He recalled when Onmund had called him into this very room to see the blades beginning to emerge. After some discussion amongst the senior wizards of the college, the decision was made to simply observe. Over the next several days the blades had slowly worked their way up until, the mages assumed, only a small portion of the blade remained embedded in the stone.

After more discussions and more impassioned discussions at that, one of the wizards, Cosnach, told them all that they could simply study the things at the college and went to go pull them from the ground. Tolfdir shuddered at the memory. Cosnach had grasped one of the upraised handles and instantly flames had rushed up his arm, flowing over and coating his flesh. He had screamed and tried to pull away but his hand remained sealed to the handle and he only burned hotter.

No one had been able to react quickly enough, but even if they could have done something, even now with the benefit of hindsight Tolfdir did not know what could have been done to save him other than to have never touched the blades in the first place. Cosnach had died in moments, but even then the blades did not release him. He had burned down to a fine ash before the flames finally flickered out. The blades were untouched but the stone where Cosnach's body had fallen was blackened from the heat of his passing.

Tolfdir sat back and sighed. This had been a troubling and tragic expedition, but he had to admit, a remarkably successful one. Yes, they had lost one careless researcher to a trap, another to an unforeseen swarm of draugr, and finally Cosnach to… whatever exactly these things were. However they had discovered a strange floating relic. A sphere that either generated or served as a conduit for vast amounts of magicka and then, of course, these blades.

Many theories had been bandied about amongst the research about what exactly the nature of the two items were. One of the strangest aspects to the entire situation was that the items seemed to be completely separate and distinct. The sphere was covered in what appeared to be the ancient snow elf script while these blades exhibited none of the characteristics of either the ancient snow elf or ancient nordic cultures, making it a complete mystery as to why they would be in Saarthal.

Tolfdir was rudely pulled from his ruminations when he heard raised voices and a general commotion taking place back towards the center of the research camp. He quickly left the room and stalked down the winding tunnels to the main cavern where the camp was located.

He quickly took in the situation, the senior members of the research expedition were facing off with a large group of elves, heated words flying in both directions. Ancano of course was in the lead. Tolfdir's lip curled in anger. He had never trusted that blasted elf! Always scheming and plotting behind his honeyed words. Tolfdir raised his voice, drawing the eyes of both parties "Enough! What is the meaning of this?"

Ancano turned to face him with a sharp, thin smile on his face, "Ah, Master Tolfdir. So good of you to join us." He gestured to the rest of the Winterhold contingent, "I was just informing your colleagues that Thalmor will be taking over the excavation of Saarthal. You have found ancient elven relics here that are dear to our cultural heritage."

Tolfdir could not help an incredulous scoff that burst from him, "This is the first capital of men on the continent and you come to us regarding cultural significance? This is beyond ridiculous and a poor jest!"

Ancanos' grin grew sharper still, now little more than an almost feral baring of teeth, "Yes, Ysgramor's capital. He himself is a figure often linked to Talos worship, yet another reason we will be taking over. And the reason that we are empowered to do so by the White Gold Concordant," his contempt was clear now on his face, no longer hiding behind his false smiles, "to discharge that duty we _can _and _will_ use force if necessary." Spells lit the hands of several of the justicars and others drew blades.

Tolfdir and the rest of the mages took a step back, shock writ large across their faces. "You would spill blood on the thinnest of pretenses?"

Ancano merely shrugged, "Gladly. Now. You have five minutes to gather what belongings you need and leave the site." His blasted smile was back. "I suggest you hurry."

* * *

Kratos strode purposefully up the road, Lydia at his side. The sun struck him with a warmth that he had not felt in some time. The scents and sounds had changed as well. So far south in the Rift had moved him sufficiently from the alpine climbs that he was accustomed to. Lydia noticed him breathing deep, scenting the air. She cocked her head at him as they made their final approach to the city, "Is something amiss, my thane?"

Kratos let out a forceful exhale before looking over at her, the creases at the edges of his eyes deepening, "No, girl." He was quiet for a moment and Lydia knowing him stayed silent, her expectant air prompting him to continue. "It has been... _many _years since I have been in a milder climate. It is strange."

"Were you born in the north then?" She missed no opportunity to ask a question, to learn more. Kratos wasn't often forthcoming about his past and when the mood struck him she needed to capitalize on it. Her eyes shot open as she considered her question. She cleared her throat nervously, "You were born? Not just…?" She gestured outwards with her hands.

Kratos let out a bark, "Yes, I was born." There was a twinkle in his eye when he looked down at her. "I did not merely appear."

Lydia grinned up at him sheepishly and shrugged, "You are a divine being from another realm!" He cocked an eyebrow at her which prompted her to flap a hand at him, "I'm just saying that it wasn't a completely ridiculous question."

He let out a snort and shook his head, "To answer your question, no. I was born in the south. Near the sea. Summers were far hotter than this."

Lydia hitched her shield to lay a little more comfortably across her back before continuing, "You have not been back to the lands of your birth in some time then." She paused and looked around her, taking in the forest and far away to the west the incredible snow capped heights of the Throat of the World. A soft smile crept onto her face as she looked around, "I would miss Skyrim."

Kratos nodded, "It is a strange and beautiful land." He fell silent for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought, "I do miss my natal land at times. The hills of Laconia. The fields and vineyards. Simple times." A shadow fell over him then, a grim spirit that Lydia could feel almost palpably. Kratos thought of his home and, inescapably, of the events there. Flashes of memory, hazy and dim from the rage at the moment of their formation. Blood on the ground. Kratos ran a pale hand down his arm, rubbing at his skin. Lysandra... His voice was harsh when he spoke again, "It is dead to me now. A land of ghosts, and I am one of them. I lost count long ago but it has been well over 1000 winters since I departed that place. I do not expect to ever return."

"You are haunted by regret."

Kratos nodded, "Yes. I have done much that is wrong and have had the power to make mistakes of great magnitude."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him before she spoke again, her voice a low and rough impression of Kratos' own voice, "Do not be sorry. Be better."

Kratos froze for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter, "Fair enough." He nodded as much to himself as to her, "I am better than I was."

Lydia reached out somewhat hesitantly and gave his hand a soft squeeze, "Then do not be sorry. Let the ghosts of your past rest and strive to be better still."

He looked at her and gently held her hand in return, "You have grown wise."

She released his hand with a final squeeze and gave him a sunny smile, "I have been learning from the best."

Kratos let out a rumble of assent, "Now I know you jest. Few have called me wise."

Lydia shrugged, "Probably only those who bothered to listen, those who knew you." Kratos only shrugged but Lydia could feel that it had pleased him. Like a cloud drifting by and letting the full warmth of sunlight fall upon you again, she could feel his attention and regard. It was an awareness that had grown over the time of their association, underscored by her experience in the Myriad Realms.

It was good for him to be happier. He had been more dour since Agatha's death. He had immediately sent messages and begun asking questions. Somewhat unsurprisingly all of the contacts with which Kratos was close enough to request aid were not the sort of people who hired assassins and so had little more than rumour to offer them regarding the Dark Brotherhood.

Eventually a message had come from Sigrunn that she knew the Thieves Guild in Riften had dealings with the Dark Brotherhood at times and to go ask after a friend she had there, Brynjolf. That had been enough of a lead. Kratos had immediately ordered an expeditionary group of 50 men to be assembled. They set off later that very same day. They had avoided conflict on their journey through stormcloak territory and had dodged several stormcloak patrols. Now here they were approaching the gates of Riften while the men set up camp nearby.

Kratos' eyes narrowed when he saw the guards exchange looks with each other as they approached, an unspoken conference among the four men.. An inaudible growl built in his throat. He could feel the charge in the air, read it as easily as words on a page. Conflict. One thing caught his attention that he did not anticipate. Lydia instantly read either the situation the same currents he did, or perhaps she simply read him, but she had eased both her sword and a broad bladed fighting knife in their sheathes.

One of the guards stepped forward, raising a hand, "Halt, travelers. Access to the city is closed. All seeking entry must pay the entry tax." Kratos lip curled at the man's hesitation, clearly he was calculating a sum, "For those traveling under arms it comes to 75 septims each. We don't want that trouble in Riften so you need to compensate us for -"

"No." Kratos did not have the patience for this. "You are corrupt fools." His gaze traveled across the four men, "If you want my coin, take it by force. I will defend myself, killing you all." He shrugged, "Do what you will." Kratos resumed walking, completely ignoring the guards and heading for the city. Lydia followed closely on his heels, fighting to keep a grin from her face but her eyes were active, searching for any sign of hostile movement from any of them.

Kratos swept by the guards in moments as they spluttered and tried to figure out a way to salvage the situation. Kratos gave no backwards glance but raised a brow at Lydia, "They are dogs, bristling and barking behind their office. But they will not fight." He let out a rumble, "Those with power believe that everyone will respect the rules that protect them. All it takes is one who does not. A knife in the dark with no regard for tomorrow." They walked down the cobbled streets of Riften, past various shops and hawkers. Riften, if not too clean of a city, benefited from being the trading hub with Cyrodil to the south.

Lydia only shrugged, "I'm only a little surprised. I was expecting a punch or two. You don't look kindly on corruption. Especially of the vulnerable, who I'm sure are their targets."

"I do not. But time is pressing -" Kratos cut off abruptly as he heard a conversation that caught his ear. He turned on his heel and made straight for a man and woman who were speaking intensely in low-tones. The woman was wearing worn plate armor, carrying a greatsword, and had her face painted with blue woad while the man looked like any of a dozen imperials, in simple clothing.. Their conversation trailed off as they noticed the pale spectre of Kratos approaching.

The woman shifted subtly in front of the imperial and challenged Kratos, meeting his eyes with a glare, "What do you want, stranger?"

"You spoke of the Thieves Guild. Where are they?"

The woman spluttered at the abruptness of Kratos' words before recovering, "Excuse me? Why would I tell you a blasted thing? And what's your business with them anyhow?"

Kratos' face was stony, "My business is my own. That guild knows something I need to know. They will tell me." A vicious grin spread across the woman's face at Kratos' final statement.

The man was shaking his head gently, "Mjoll, I don't think that we should be involved in… whatever this is. It's only going to make trouble!"

Mjoll flapped a hand at him, her grin unwavering, "Oh, Aerin, but I'm just giving directions to some newcomers to Riften. I'm just being neighborly." She turned back to Kratos, eyeing his size and gear, "It's clear you're no thief, so I'm going to assume that they have crossed you somehow. Well, I don't know the path exactly, but I can lead you to the entrance to the Ratways." She grimaced, "Those are tunnels under the city. Somewhere in those tunnels is a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. The guild operates out of there."

Kratos nodded, "My thanks. Lead on."

Mjoll's grin only grew sharper, "No, thank _you_." She turned to Aerin, "I'll meet you back at your place later." She glanced back at Kratos and Lydia, "I need to show these people to the Ratways."

Aerin merely looked resigned, "Fine, Mjoll" he said with a defeated gesture, "Just try not to get yourself wrapped up in even more trouble." With a final sigh he left.

Mjoll looked back to them, "Shall we then?" The trip through Riften was quick and uneventful. Soon enough they descended from the main city level to the down a nearly vertical embankment to the wooden walkways along the river which ran through the city. They arrived at a rickety looking wooden door that led into tunnels beneath Riften. Mjoll gestured to it grandly, "The Ratways.

They made their way through the Ratways quite quickly. Kratos was in no mood for delays. When two footpads leapt out of the darkness at them they were met by overwhelming force. Lydia wasn't sure if they were alive or dead. She shuddered. The skeevers she knew were dead. She could now say that she had seen a skeever stomped in half. Not that she wanted to. She had fought on battlefields and seen horrible wounds inflicted by both blade and magicka but for whatever reason this was a bridge too far for her. Perhaps it was the sound. A wet, squelching, crunch. She swallowed heavily against the rising nausea at the memory.

Kratos stood in front of a wooden door, a better fitting one than the others they had seen in the Ratways, with a sign that proclaimed it to be The Ragged Flagon. Kratos paused a moment looking at the door and then scraped off the bottoms of his boots on the rough stone floor. He looked over at Lydia and cocked a brow. She nodded in reply and he pushed open the door and they stepped in.

The tavern was located in a large, open, and roughly circular cavern. On the far end was the bar and the tavern proper. In the center there was a sizable open cistern of water. Part of the tavern seating was on a wooden platform out over the cistern, giving it a waterfront feel. Torches and lanterns hung from numerous places, giving the rough place a warm illumination. There were quite a few people seated at the tables. Silence fell at their entrance and all eyes turned to them.

Kratos completely ignored the attention, the pressure of their scrutiny slid from him like water off a duck's back. He set out for the bar with no hesitation, as comfortable as if he were in the Red Fox back in Havverfjord. As he neared the seating area, a large nord man stood and placed himself in Kratos' path. In any other situation that man would have looked large and intimidating as he stood well over 6ft tall and was heavily muscled, but standing in Kratos path it was clear who was larger and had the weight advantage. The man had long blond hair pulled back into a tail and what Lydia thought were some _especially_ heinous mutton chops.

The nord raised a hand and spoke in a raspy voice, "We don't like strangers snooping 'round the Flagon. Maybe best you find another place to get a drink."

Kratos stopped and looked down at the man, completely unconcerned, he spoke loudly to the room at large, but kept his eyes locked on the man before him, "I come seeking information. I was told to speak to Brynjolf."

The bouncer narrowed his eyes, "Maybe Brynjolf doesn't want to talk to you. I think you should turn around and leave."

Kratos' eyes narrowed dangerously in return, "No. There is no need for conflict. But I _will_ speak to Brynjolf."

The frustration finally sparked in the man's eyes, "Oh there's a _need_." With that he stepped forward and viciously shoved Kratos. Or would have, if it had done anything. He may as well have shoved one of the stone walls. Before he could react, Kratos seized him by the throat with one hand and before he could do more than have his eyes bug out in shock, swept his feet out from under him and drove him straight to the ground. Kratos was on one knee, pinning the bouncer to the floor by his neck as the man scrabbled ineffectively at Kratos' hand and wrist futilely trying to free himself.

Everyone lurched to their feet at the sudden burst of action, knives appearing in hands, but Kratos' voice cut across the room again, "Hold! He is fine. I only wish to speak to Brynjolf."

A red headed man with a short beard stepped forward from the crowd. His voice had a moderate brogue, "Well, you're an insistent bastard, I'll give you that much." He gestured to the bouncer, "Let him up and we can talk."

"Brynjolf?"

"Aye. Now…" he gestured again a bit theatrically to the man still thrashing on the ground, "if you would?" Kratos released him and stood. The bouncer scrambled back and to his feet, crashing against one of the tables, a hand rubbing at his throat.

Brynjolf smiled, "Well at least that's out of the way. Come. Sit." He gestured to a table, "Let's try to have a civilized conversation." The tension in the room was slowly ratcheting down, as knives disappeared back into sleeves or other hiding places and other patrons made a wide berth around Brynjolf's table.

Kratos approached slowly and sat down opposite the red headed man. Brynjolf's eyes were hard, "Alright. Let's talk. I will warn you, Dirge was right. We don't take kindly to strangers. So you may want to pick your words carefully. First let's start off with who told you to come and see me."

"That is irrelevant."

Brynjolf's grin was sharp, "Oh, no. You see, to me it is very relevant, as someone is bringing trouble to my door, because that's exactly what you are." He leaned forward on the table. "So tell me that first off or we are done here."

"Sigrunn."

"That girl." He looked upwards in exasperation, "_Of course_, it was Sigrunn." He focused on Kratos again, "Fair enough. I won't guarantee an answer, but I will at least hear the question."

Kratos' face was as unreadable as Brynjolf's was active, "Where is the Dark Brotherhood?"

Brynjolf's eyebrows shot up, "Well you cut straight to the heart of it don't you?" He paused, "This is a dangerous topic. Why do you need to know?" Kratos was quiet for a time, eyes boring into Brynjolf. The silence went on long enough that Brynjolf's facade seemed to crack slightly, him impatience showing "You still with us he -"

"I will be clear with you." Kratos growled, leaning forward at the table. The air was suddenly heavy and charged. Everyone heard it in his voice. Not rage but inevitability. "I am going to kill them. I am going to kill those who hired them. And I am going to kill their associates." He paused for a moment, shock was clear on Brynjolf's face; you could have heard a pin drop in the tavern. "Now, I am considering whether you fall into the associates category." No one moved but the tension in the room was approaching unbearable levels and violence simmered just below the surface.

Brynjolf swallowed. Despite the man being here with only a single woman for backup, he did not like the idea of trying to fight this pair. He feared that they would be all too capable. "Well, I like your honesty, so I'll be honest too. You clearly already know who we are." He cleared his throat, "We don't take part in their business. But they do some business with us. That is to say, they sometimes buy and sell supplies with us. Nothing more. We don't like them. But they pay well. Barely well enough to keep us from saying good riddance to the whole creepy bunch." He shook his head, "We're thieves. Not murderers. And certainly not murderers for hire." There were nods from the other patrons in agreement with Brynjolf.

Kratos sat back in his chair and the oppressive charge to the air began to lift, "Very well. Then where are they?"

Brynjolf grimaced and ran a hand back through his hair, "The guild does not need to be in the middle of this…" He looked back to Kratos, "Alright -"

"Bryn!" came a cry from a slender altmer, "You can't be serious! That's money the guild needs!"

The redheaded man snapped right back, "But the guild _doesn't_ need their _enemies_! We've gotten lucky, Vex. But they have a _lot_ of enemies. And our luck has been far from good of late. Sooner or later it's going to run out." He sighed and rubbed his forehead before focusing again on Kratos, "Falkreath. Whenever we send them something, we send it to the inn in Falkreath, Dead Man's Drink, care of Gretta." He shrugged, "That's all I can tell you. We aren't exactly close. But there's your next bread crumb."

Kratos nodded, "My thanks." He stood and immediately began walking for the door. After a few steps Kratos paused and turned back, "Brynjolf. I know your face. I don't need to tell you the consequences of lying."

Brynjolf merely returned his look, "You don't. And I haven't." He shrugged, "I would wish you luck, but I really don't care."Kratos nodded and set off again. Lydia followed after him, walking backwards for a few steps, keeping a close eye on the gathered thieves, checking the glares for hidden violence. Seeing none she turned and followed her thane.

Brynjolf merely shook his head and let out a gusty breath. He raised a hand in the air and called, "Vekel! I could use a drink." Well this certainly was a day. Sigrunn had better have a good explanation for sending that man down here. Not that the outcome might be that bad, Brynjolf mused. He had been concerned for some time about the relationship that the guild had with the Brotherhood. That was just a disaster waiting to happen.

That man seemed a bit unhinged, but for all of that, he didn't try to take out his vendetta on the guild. Not the worst outcome in Brynjolf's eyes. With a new flagon before him, he waved over one of the young bucks seeking to make a name for themselves, "I don't like being caught by surprise. Find out more about that man."

When they had exited the Ratways, Kratos turned to Lydia, "Go to the market and acquire what supplies we need. We go directly to Falkreath, straight west, passing south of the Throat of the World. It will be faster." They walked together up the wooden steps back into the city proper. "We leave immediately. Lingering only increases the chance that stormcloaks delay us."

* * *

AN: I realize that Dirge is an imperial technically. He just seems like more of a nord character. Given that his brother Maul is a nord, even with one different parent he is still at least half nord. Anyway. That's why, just in case you're feeling nitpicky

Also I realize that this may have felt again more like a set up chapter, but it just seemed like a good break point and wasn't _too_ short to stand alone. Next installment will definitely have a bit more action if that's what you've been waiting for.

Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing. Big thanks to all of those who have been consistent reviewers and especially those who give specific feedback.

Really this chapter came out quicker driven by the community support. And I've had some more time recently, which certainly didn't hurt.


	17. Chapter 17

Lydia sat at the bar in the Dead Man's Drink, slowly nursing a tankard of mead. She had spent all of yesterday and today sitting here, slowly drinking and waiting for someone to pick up packages for "Greta". She was surprised that Kratos was being sufficiently patient. She had almost expected him to just send the men out combing the region for the Dark Brotherhood. Of course that would have been a waste of time and alerted their quarry. Impatient he might be, but he was no fool. So they had planned and now she sat drinking and watching.

A young imperial woman came into the inn, humming a merry tune, she came up to the bar and leaned against it, "Afternoon, Valga!" she called in a cheery voice to the innkeeper. She brushed back a few strands of blonde hair that had gotten free of the large braid that came down to her mid back.

The innkeep, Valga, came over to her, "To you as well. Here checking on Greta's package or just a drink today?"

She laughed and gave a wicked grin, "Can't it be both?" Lydia nearly jumped when she heard Greta's name, it was the alias Brynjolf had told them was used by the Dark Brotherhood. Was this little slip of a thing one of them and just putting on a show or was she just a go between? Lydia gave a mental shrug, in the end it didn't matter. She raised her tankard and pressed it to her forehead as if enjoying the coolness of the metal against her skin. This was her sign to the other watcher that this person was their mark.

After a couple moments of chitchat, the innkeep passed over a small, cloth-wrapped package tied with twine to the woman, who polished off her drink and with a wave made her way to the exit. Another of Kratos' men was in the bar sitting at a table next to the door. He had been watching Lydia and seen the sign. As the Brotherhood's agent passed he stood and followed her out. Just after they came out the door he called to her, "Pardon miss,"

The woman turned to him, green eyes shining, "Yes?"

He held up a septim, "I thought you dropped this back there… or maybe it's just a lucky day for me?"

She shook her head, "Not mine," and smiled, "maybe you are lucky today."

He pocketed the coin with a nod, "Hope so. Be well." With that he set off down the street in the opposite direction of the agent. The interaction had been the mark though, and now two other tails had identified the woman as their target. Kratos' men were spaced through the city to keep handing off and changing the tail. Anything less, Kratos had said, would expose them to the assassins.

The process continued as the soldiers rotated through following the woman for short stretches. They did not even need to be particularly subtle, or avoid notice necessarily, as no single one of them would be near the Brotherhood agent for any suspicious length of time. However, the truly difficult point was about to come as the imperial left the eastern gate of the city of Falkreath.

Knowing that they were hunting the Dark Brotherhood Kratos had taken his best scouts, those who were accomplished woodsmen, including one who claimed that he could lay a hand on a deer before it noticed him in the forest. These scouts were posted at the exits to the city, ready to take up the pursuit should it extend out into the wilds.

Lydia waited at the bar for a while in the Deadman's Drink, if for no other reason than to be sure that she herself was not being observed. Kratos had been very clear in his orders. When they were in their positions there was to be no sign of association. No idle word or look that could let a possible observer know that they were working together. Lydia finally rose and made her way to the stairs, while she didn't think that it was likely the assassins would be shadowing each other unless they were on alert, she could appreciate the precaution. She hadn't taken the attack in Havverfjord quite as personally as Kratos, but she too wanted the Brotherhood punished.

She went quietly up the stairs and into one of the rooms that they had rented at the inn. Kratos was sitting cross legged on the ground, meditating, and looked up at her entrance. He made a low inquisitive rumble. Lydia spun the lone chair in the room away from a small end table to face Kratos and sat, "We have a target. They are tailing her now. The final tail will come back when she goes to ground." She sat back and blew out a breath, "Now is just the worst part. The waiting."

Kratos closed his eyes, appearing completely at ease, "It is… deeply unpleasant." They sat in silence for a time. The moments dragged by. Lydia found herself growing more and more agitated, not only because of the waiting, but because of her inability to affect the outcome of their hunt at this point. It was completely out of her hands. Without realizing it her knee began to bounce, driven by her restlessness.

Kratos' eyes snapped open and locked on Lydia's bouncing knee. She followed his amber gaze and stopped with a wince, "My apologies…"

Kratos looked at her for a moment, his face expressionless before speaking, "Come. Sit with me."

Lydia reluctantly knelt and then shifted to a similar cross legged position, "I don't know that I will be able to meditate right now, Kratos."

Kratos gestured dismissively with two fingers, "Then it is all the more necessary that you do so. Breathe." Lydia sat and tried to recapture the calm that she was able to find during her regular morning meditations with Kratos. His voice was low and soft, "You must remain centered. Focused. _Controlled_." She let herself sink into the cavernous sounds of his voice, focusing on her breathing. "Impatience, agitation, fear, rage, _all _may be fuel to drive you. _Only _if controlled." Lydia sank into herself and latched on to the monolithic and endless strength that she could sense before her. Time slipped away from her.

Some time later a knock came at their door. Lydia shook herself from her reverie. The sun had fallen below the horizon and the room was lit by a single candle. Kratos rose without a single hesitation or indication of stiffness despite having remained motionless for hours. He opened the door and a slight man in a drab woodland cloak slipped into the room. He quickly saluted Kratos and then Lydia, "Thane, Redhand, may I make my report?"

Kratos poured a glass of water for the man from a pitcher on the table and passed it to him, "Speak, Algar."

The man nodded and took a quick sip. "I tailed the woman from the eastern gate through the woods." He paused before continuing, "She's one of them, thane, no doubt. The instant she cleared line of sight from the road she began moving like a completely different person. I nearly lost her there." He swallowed, "They are skilled. I managed to stay with her as she circled back around the city heading west. The east gate was a red herring from the start. I stayed with her as she went out west of the city a goodly distance before…" He took another nervous sip. "I lost her, thane." He bowed his head. "I have failed you."

Kratos let out a snort, "You tracked an assassin through the woods in failing light. You did well." He poured himself a cup and took a drink. "You can find the place where you lost her again?"

He nodded emphatically, "I am sure, thane."

Kratos looked back at him, "Then come first light that is where we will be. Go. Rest. Tomorrow may be the day we find and destroy the Dark Brotherhood." Algar set his cup down and saluted again, slipping out of the room without a sound.

The next morning found them standing in the woods. They had set out well before the rising of the sun, which was only now beginning to illuminate the edge of the horizon, though that view was blocked by the tall conifers that surrounded them. Kratos was down on one knee hanging back while Algar and the other scouts slowly combed the woods before them for any sign of the assassin's passing. Behind Kratos in a loose skirmishing formation were the remainder of his men. They all were crouched low and concealed as well as they could, hands at their weapons. They understood the danger posed by their prey. Everyone kept an eye to their neighbor.

Kratos and his soldiers waited silently in the chill morning, the men hardly even willing to shift their weight for fear of giving away the group's position. One of the scouts came shifting out of the grey-green darkness between the trees. He swiftly approached Kratos and took a knee next to him. The man spoke in a whisper, easily covered by the birdsong of the woods, "Honor, thane. Algar has found the trail. He and the others are following and leaving clear trail sign for us."

Kratos nodded, his voice almost so low that it was as much felt as audible, "Good. Lead on then." The scout raised fist to heart and set off along the trail slowly. Kratos nodded to Lydia, who rose to a crouch and made several commanding gestures. The various squad leaders signalled back their readiness toLydia, who in turn caught Kratos' amber eyes and gave him a solemn nod.

Kratos set out after the scout, who was careful to stay within view of those following. The woods were peaceful, clad in a deep and calm grey green of the pale morning, but Kratos felt keenly a growing sense of… something. It was difficult for him to put words to. Not a hunger, as that ascribed maybe too much emotion, but perhaps an emptiness. An awareness but a cold indifference and dispassionate malevolence.

Kratos could liken it to the presence that he had felt in the mountains west of Solitude, but this was an older and much darker being than the one who held some sway in Haafingar. He caught Lydia's eyes and quirked one brow in question. She looked back at him, puzzled. His voice broke the silence that seemed almost requisite here, "The... presence." He could see the instant recognition flash in her eyes and did not need to see the nod that followed. The sense of that presence only grew as they continued along the trail.

Perhaps an hour of careful creeping through the woods later they reached the rest of the scouts. Algar's face was twisted in frustration and he saluted as Kratos approached. His voice was bitter, "Again, I am forced to admit my failure, thane." He gestured to the forest before them, "I fear I have lost the trail. We are beginning a wider combing of the area. Hopefully we will pick the trail back up soon. I suggest that the main force remain here so as to not disturb any sign."

Kratos did not respond immediately, but closed his eyes, feeling for that oppressive emptiness that dogged them. With some focus he could determine a direction. He opened his eyes once more and looked to Algar, "Continue your sweep. However, I and the main force will go that way," he said, raising a hand and pointing towards the heart of the darkness he sensed.

Algar bowed despite his obvious confusion. "As you will, my thane. We will send word should we find them."

Kratos nodded and began to follow the oppressive presence. Lydia had heard his conversation and quickly had the men formed up and following after. Kratos could not determine a perfect sense of direction, but through trial and error they managed to weave a meandering course that brought them to a meadow with a low depression on one end. At this point Kratos could almost hear hissing, sibilant whispers from some unseen stygian beyond.

He stopped the war band at the edge of the meadow and lowered himself into a crouch, peering into the glade. Kratos turned to the soldiers, his voice a low growl "This is the place. We go quietly, prepared for war. We will kill all who oppose us." He looked over to his housecarl, "Lydia, divide the force. Task a quarter of the soldiers to remain hidden and cut down all who flee. Also, send a runner for the scouts, but we will not tarry for them. When we move we go with speed. Against this foe we cannot hope for stealth with so many."

Kratos gave Lydia a few moments to see to the details implementing his orders. Soon enough she returned and gave him a quick nod, "We are prepared, thane. On your order."

Kratos stood, his teeth bared in a lupine grimace, "Go." Following his own command he rushed across the clearing towards the depression, followed closely by the assault team. The remaining men also ran, taking up positions in pairs, encircling the small glade.

Kratos descended the gentle grassy slope into the hollow, followed closely by Lydia and the soldiers. One side of the depression was occupied by a large pool of water. Lydia felt goosebumps stand up on her arms as a chill passed over her. Somehow in descending the 15ft or so from the level of the meadow into the depression it had become noticeably cooler. The pond itself was ominous. The water appeared far too still and far too dark for the cloudless day, Lydia could not even hazard a guess as to the water's depth.

The pond, however, was the least unsettling portion of the hollow. Set into the steepest portion, in a rocky protrusion, lurked a door. It was large, it's top higher than Lydia could have reached. On the door was a relief of an ominous scene. A large skull dominated the door, below which were strewn smaller, fallen skeletons pierced by a variety of weapons. On the brow of the large skull was the print of a bloody hand. The chill of the hollow seemed to emanate from the metal of the heavy door. When Lydia started at the door, the very light of the sun appeared to fade and dim.

Lydia and the rest of them stood for a moment, transfixed by the macabre and unsettling image, not merely for its appearance, or even for the chill it exuded, but for the half-heard rattling, graveyard breathing they all hoped they were imagining. Shaking off the oppressive presence Lydia turned to the men, "Torches. Get them ready, we're going underground." With some continued worried looks to the door, the men complied.

Kratos' lip curled with disdain as he eyed the strange portal for a moment. With a slight shrug he stepped forward and made to pull on the handle. He was stopped by a dry, raspy voice, one that could have been mistaken for a chill wind whistling through a sepulchre, which filled the hollow with its sourceless, black susurration, "_What… is the music… of life_?"

The soldiers behind him were shooting nervous looks around them trying to ascertain the source of the hideous voice. At a hissed command from Lydia they stilled, attention on the door and their thane. Kratos paused for a moment, considering his reply.

His answer resounded through the hollow when his fist slammed into the door with a thunderous clang, deforming the hand print on the door. He took a step back and leapt forward again with a snarl, applying devastating force. Kratos could feel that he was not contending with iron. There was a will bound to this door, some creeping darkness that powered it and gave it strength. Kratos grit his teeth and bombarded the black door with blows of titanic force, deforming and damaging the metal despite the strange enchantments bound to it.

With a final shout, Kratos' booted foot blasted the battered door inward with a resounding clang and a dark, tenebrous hiss that lasted far longer than the impact of metal on stone. Lydia stepped up to Kratos' side and offered him a torch, "Well, thane, I think they know we're here."

Kratos' voice was gravel in a mill, his face thunderous, "_Good._" He took the torch in one hand, and with the leviathan axe in the other stalked into the tunnel, pausing only to look over his shoulder briefly "No prisoners. No survivors." Kratos accelerated, barreling down the tunnel, seeking the battle he felt coming.

Several arrows came whipping out of the darkness, glancing off Kratos' flesh, hardly marring its pale surface, but prompting a cry of "Shields!" from Lydia as she raised her own. Kratos responded with a shout and sharp upward slash of his axe, which flung an arc of icy light. The temperature dropped further as the blast of Niefelheim's lethal chill raced up the tunnel before them.

Kratos continued on, charging by one fallen form clad in dark leather, covered in rime, face frozen in a twisted grimace. Seeing light ahead, he rushed forward with a growing roar and burst into a large room. It seemed to be an office or war room judging by all of the bookshelves, chairs, and the large map table in the center.

Kratos ducked and juked as he entered, one arrow whipped by him and a deft flick of the leviathan axe redirected a sword stroke. Without breaking stride he stepped and shoved the massive map table with one foot, sending it shooting across the room at two archers. One was lucky enough to dive out of the way but the other was caught between wall and table, shattering bone and leaving him splayed across the table violently retching blood.

The swordsman leapt out of the dim light at Kratos, with a vicious lunge, attempting to run him through. Kratos stepped back and brought his axe cross in a blur, the force tearing the sword from his opponent's grip and sending it flying across the room. The assassin hesitated for a split second, shocked at the sudden reversal and his numb hand, which was all the opportunity Kratos needed to bring the leviathan axe back across his body in a low backhand blow. The axe head blasted through both of the man's legs, severing them and jerking him sideways in the air. Before his body could hit the ground Kratos stepped forward and kicked him sending his legless body soaring across the room leaving a scream and a cascade of arterial spray from the stumps of his legs in his wake.

Kratos' whipped his bloody axe through the air, deflecting an arrow before continuing the motion in a spin and hurling the axe across the room where it smashed into the other archer, embedding itself in the stone and staking the horrified assassin to the wall. She clawed futilely at the axe for a brief moment before falling slack.

Lydia and his soldiers poured into the room, Lydia immediately directing them towards the tunnels leading off deeper into the complex, "Shields up! Watch for each other and keep an eye out for traps!" She eyed the devastation dispassionately, "Your orders, thane?"

Kratos turned to her and gestured towards the largest of the 3 tunnels, "I will go this way, where I expect heaviest resistance. Divide the men into three squads. One for each of the other paths and one to accompany us." Kratos recalled his axe, the corpse falling to the stone floor with a wet thud as the axe soared back to his waiting hand.

Kratos set off down the main tunnel which after a turn to the left opened up into a large cavernous chamber with a stream running through it. The tunnel exited out onto a platform about halfway up the caverns wall. The main level of the cavern was accessible by a ramp which led down into it. There were torches around the space, illuminating a large training area and a forge on the main level. Glittering high up on the far wall was a strange window of stained glass, depicting an unclear but ominous scene in tenebrous tones of scarlet and shadow.

The air charged with an ominous crackle and a lightning bolt burst across the cavern. Kratos reached out, clawing at the magicka in the air, and deflected the bolt to the side. It connected with the rock face next to the tunnel, hurling shards of broken stone and filling the air with the scent of ozone. Without hesitation Kratos gripped his axe, channeling energy into its runes and hurled it towards the source of the spell.

Kratos charged forward after his thrown axe, leaping off of the platform into the shadows of the main floor, Lydia and the others followed quickly after via the stone pathways. Kratos had hardly landed when a redguard robed in shadowy tones of grey and red came whirling out of the darkness, wielding two scimitars that flashed and flickered in the low light of the cavern. His dark eyes burned above the dark swath of cloth that veiled his face.

Kratos weaved with preternatural speed and agility, either deftly avoiding the dervish's strikes or deflecting them with the heavy metal plates backing his bracers. Abruptly, the man lurched forward, a shout of surprise and pain driven from his lungs as the leviathan axe slammed into him from behind, embedding its rear blade into his back as it sought to return to its master.

Kratos left the man no time to recover and stepped forward, cracking him across the face with a quick jab that left him dazed. Kratos continued past the dervish, grabbing the handle of his axe and tearing it free. Kratos continued the spin, crushing through a hastily raised scimitar and struck the man's head from his shoulders. Such was the speed of the blow that the head sailed across the cavern, trailing blood and the scarlet cloth of his turban as it unraveled.

He cast his eyes around the cavern where the battle was joined. The assassins fought desperately for their sanctuary, with no hiding places left to them. They were skilled, every one of them, but they were, for the most part, not soldiers and their true skills lay elsewhere. Kratos' eyes caught on a scene at the edge of the main conflict. One of his soldiers was on the ground and his screams had just then stilled. Crouched on top of him was what appeared to be a child, a little girl wearing a simple peasant dress, but when she raised her head, her face was a mask of blood and her eyes burned like coals. The bones of her face stood out in stark and almost inhuman angles and her hair hung lank, now coated with blood and viscera.

The creature looked at Kratos, its' scarlet shining eyes catching on the headless, robed body next to him, and screamed. It was a long and horrifying sound, a cry of outrage and anger that recalled all childhood fears of the unknown and of unseen terrors in the dark, those that lurked just outside of sight and reach. Kratos saw soldiers and assassins both wince and hesitate, the cold hand of terror suddenly gripping them as they recoiled instinctively from the sound. The creature's shriek flowed over Kratos like a breeze over a mountain and with just as much effect.

The thing which wore the form of a child, leapt for him, flying across the distance faster than the eye could follow. She - _it_ \- went for his throat. Kratos brought his forearm up between them, blocking her lunge. The force of its rush pushed Kratos feet skidding back along the stone floor of the cavern. Its maw closed on his bracer, jaws gaping wider than should ever have been possible and filled with sharp teeth dominated by a pair shining fangs.

Those same fangs grated along his bracer, pulling up curls of steel. Its fingers were skeletal and long, tipped with talons no human ever had. They scrabbled at Kratos seeking for purchase. He could feel those claws actually cutting into his skin. One tiny fist managed to clip his chin, delivering a startling amount of force with such a glancing blow.

Over it all was the miasma of otherworldly power Kratos had come to recognize as belonging to one of the daedra. It was not a daedra that he had encountered before, but certainly one of their kind, and, of course, a blessing from whatever dark being ruled this cloister of murderers and assassins.

However this creature was still small like a child and its legs dangled in the air. Kratos raised up the arm the beast was attached to and reached under with his other hand, seizing it by the ankle. Kratos tore it from his arm, spun and slammed it into a nearby stalagmite, shattering the stone formation. Kratos swung it back up in the air and beat the monstrosity against the ground with such force that nearby rocks and chips of stones jumped into the air. He repeated this process twice more creating a resounding meaty thud each time.

Kratos released the dead creature's ankle and was about to turn away when he heard a low gallows growl issue from its frame. Amber eyes widening in surprise, Kratos leapt forward, stomping on the middle of the creature's back, pinning it to the ground. He dropped to his knee, slamming it between the beast's shoulder blades. With a growl Kratos reached down, snaking an arm under its snapping jaws and locked his other hand behind its head as it began to buck furiously, pushing him into the air. Driving his knee down, Kratos wrenched upward and _pulled_.

The creature hissed as its neck extended and then hypertended, tendons straining. After a moment locked in straining silence, Kratos let out a snarl and jerked, tearing the head free from its now limp body. He stood, holding the head by its bloody hair in his left hand. His amber eyes narrowed dangerously when he heard the clack of teeth snapping at air. Kratos raised the head up and watched grimly as its shining red eyes rolled madly before eventually focusing on him. Somehow despite the lack of lungs it still managed a strange, sepulchral hiss.

Kratos cocked a brow at the head before leaping forward spinning like a hammer thrower and hurling the head at a nearby wall with a shout. The head rocketed across space, a barely visible blur and struck with incredible force. Shards of bone and scraps of torn flesh flew as the head exploded against the wall. Kratos turned to see the beast's headless body spasm briefly.

The leviathan axe leapt from the ground to its master's hand as he surveyed the cavern. The battle appeared to have largely moved on as he was dealing with the abomination. His men were surrounding and finishing the final few assassins rather handily at this point. The battle was effectively won. Kratos was advancing deeper into the cavern when he heard a crash and simultaneously felt a rush of anger flare, marked with Lydia's essence.

Kratos rushed up one of the rough hewn tunnels and burst out into a large room set with pews and strewn with strange occult items. Tapestries hung along the walls depicting a woman communing with a formless darkness, murder, and a skeletal being whispering in the ear of a hooded figure. The room was dominated by a tall intricately wrought metal sarcophagus at one end that bore a woman's twisted visage. Behind the casket was the large stained glass window that he had seen from the main cavern.

Lydia was in the center of the room doing battle with a howling man wearing red and black motley. Her shield was gone, lost somewhere along the way. Judging by the damage and overturned objects strewn about the room, they had been fighting for sometime. The jester moved like a snake, every attack like a striking serpent, charged with frenetic energy. Lydia on the other hand fought with an efficiency and economy of motion that spoke of deep skill and evened the odds against her faster opponent.

Kratos watched her swing a fraction too high, her stance off for that attack and the jester darted within her reach, deflecting her sword upwards with his dagger. Lydia merely flashed a razor grin as her assailant took her invitation. Her mail clad foot shot forward with a speed she hadn't yet shown, smashing into the clown's knee making him howl with pain and using her free hand deflected his brutal ripost, causing it to merely grate along her armor as it was sent off target. She leapt to the side of the jester's strong leg, leaving him unable to pivot on his bad knee, and whipped her extended blade back, hamstringing the man and sending him crashing to his knees.

His manic babblings never ceased, but all that could be understood was, "No, Mother! Please!" He may have said more, but Lydia gave him no chance as she rammed two and a half feet of steel through his back, the point bursting out his chest. Lydia stood, breathing heavily and watched as the jester's corpse slumped forward, held up by her sword through his chest. The limp corpse slowly slid down the blade until it was flat upon the ground.

Kratos took in her battered armor and ragged appearance. Her shield was gone and one pauldron had been ripped free. Wedged between the other and her breastplate was a dagger matching the one in the jesters hands. He raised a questioning brow at her. Lydia made to shrug, but cut off in a wince. With a scowl she reached up and pulled the dagger free, tossing it to the ground

Kratos eyed the blade, before looking back up at her, "He stabbed you."

She smiled and held up her hand, thumb and forefinger held close together, "Only a little bit."

Kratos let out a bark of a laugh, and gestured to her, "And the rest?"

Lydia coughed and sat down heavily on one of the few pews that had remained standing, "That was the werewolf."

He sat beside her, his face stoic, "Ah, yes. The werewolf. Of course."

Lydia caught sight of the claw marks on his arms and pointed, "And you? What happened there?"

Kratos looked down at his clawed arms, the marks beginning to fade, before turning back to her, "That was the vampire."

Lydia fought back a smile trying to maintain a blank face, "Ah, yes. The vampire. Of course." After a moment Lydia leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment in silence, the sounds of battle having faded, enjoying the peace that came after.

A few minutes later they both shifted, the room becoming more oppressive and feeling the prickle of eyes upon them, of being watched. Kratos stood and scanned the room casting about with his senses and saw Lydia do the same. There was the same presence that was throughout the entire complex, that dispassionate depth of malevolence, but here there was something else. Kratos approached the tomb and felt the attention on him sharpen.

He eyed the sarcophagus for a moment, the presence seeming to crystalize within it. Kratos' lip curled and he spat on the ground before the relic. His voice resounded through the room, "Creature. You came to my home. I came to yours. Do not make the same error again." With a sudden shout Kratos stepped forward and kicked the sarcophagus. Such was the force of the blow that it flew backwards, shattering the stained glass behind it and sending it tumbling into the cavern below. Kratos turned and walked back to Lydia.

She gave him a smile and an approving nod, "What now, my thane?"

Kratos looked around the room, eyeing all of its sinister trappings with distaste, "We burn this place. We burn everything."

* * *

AN: I did go in a slightly different direction with Babette. I know she isn't technically a daughter of Cold Harbor, but I like that vibe. Also I'm just applying a lot more age to her generally. This is also a way of me expressing my general disappointment in the vampires of Skyrim. Dawnguard helped that a little bit, but still they don't exactly seem like the supernatural horrors that they should. I wanted to change that a little.

Sorry this chapter took so long to get out, but here it is!


	18. Chapter 18

Lydia stood in the meadow, eyes fixed on the tunnel leading into the now ruined Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. After the battle they had taken their wounded and dead out into the meadow. After ensuring that they would lose no one else to wounds dealt by the assassins, Kratos had ordered some of the men to gather fuel. They had placed enough wood to guarantee a hot burn and with some strange concoctions and accelerant, that the Dark Brotherhood had in their ample alchemy supplies, they set the place ablaze.

For hours they had watched smoke pour from the cavern's mouth, its depths lit with bursts of flame and flights of cinders. Truly it had looked like a portal into the depths of Dagon's Deadlands. Once it finally subsided, Kratos had ordered them to stay back and once more entered the tunnels.

Lydia sighed and looked over her shoulder at the dead laid out on the long grass. Next to their own dead were the assassins who had tried to flee and been cut down by the encircling troops. Too many of their own lay unmoving in the glade. Though she had to be fair, in truth it was only a few men and given the situation it should have been far worse. They had fought a deadly enemy on unknown ground and cut through them. Moreover those who hadn't been wounded were even still hale and energetic and had set up a full camp with earthworks.

She had known many soldiers in her time, but few with such endurance and here was nearly a whole company of them. In fact all of Kratos' soldiers stood out in such a way and she would be a fool to not see that her own skill, strength and endurance was leaps and bounds beyond what she had ever had before. Lydia frowned, it was beyond what she had seen from anyone before. It was all too easy to lose a normal frame of reference when you keep company with an actual god.

A deep grating rumble snapped Lydia out of her thoughts and she whipped her gaze back to the tunnel. The meadow itself trembled and all the men who could stood and looked towards the yawning maw of the tunnel. Great gouts of dust were driven out of the mouth of the passage as the noise continued. Lydia took an unconscious step forwards when she saw a portion of the once level meadow collapse inward, driving forth another gout of dust.

Lydia's clenched fists relaxed when Kratos hurtled out of the opaque cloud of ash and rock dust and strode towards her idly trying to brush off the worst of the debris that coated him like a second skin.

Kratos swiped again at his shoulder, brushing off flakes of stone, and eyed his dirty hands for a moment. With a snort he turned and watched the glade continue to contort as the earth shifted with the collapse of much of the caverns underneath it.

Lydia stepped up beside him and watched the changing topography, "Well. I don't think that anyone will be using that lair ever again."

Kratos nodded, "That was my intent." Soon enough, the once serene meadow ceased its shaking and settled, now littered with depressions with the soil and sod rent in places from the extremes of the shift. He turned to Lydia, "The camp is seen to?"

She nodded an affirmative, "Everything is set up and the watch schedule established. I told the men that we will stay the night here before moving on."

Kratos nodded, "Good. Place the scouts in a wide net. If anyone approaches the area I want them captured or killed. We do not know if any assassins were out on assignment."

Lydia nodded along thoughtfully, "This meadow is remote enough that it seems highly unlikely that any traveler would stumble across it by chance. It's not as if it is on the way anywhere." She hooked a thumb through her sword belt, "I will set up a small squad to be available to pursue any interlopers and assist the scouts as needed."

Kratos let out an affirmative grunt, "Good. Now. Is there water nearby? I need to bathe."

Lydia grinned and cocked an eyebrow at his thick coating of dust, "Understandable." She turned and pointed south, "There is a stream not far in that direction. The soldiers have been going there in shifts for the same reason." Her eyes narrowed and she paused, "There was something about that place… I certainly felt like I needed to bathe after being in there." She shook her head, "It's good that it is well and truly gone."

Kratos shrugged, "The assassins revered some being. It was that essence you felt. Not one of these 'daedra.' Something… more indistinct." He shook his head and turned to go, but caught himself and looked back at Lydia, "Your wound. How is it?"

Lydia reached up and touched her bandaged shoulder and rolled it slightly and tilted her head back and forth a moment as she considered, "Stiff but functional. I can fight." She broke into a wide grin with a slightly feral cast, "I told you, he only stabbed me a little bit." At that Kratos let out a single bark of a laugh and turned back to the south, setting off towards the river.

The next morning dawned bright and still, the peace of morning dew and birdsong belying the violence that had taken place there the day before and the darkness that had lurked just beneath the surface for years. Kratos arose early as was his custom. When he exited his tent, Lydia was there in the pre-dawn gloom waiting for him. Without words they walked off into the still woods a ways, exchanging silent nods with the sentries as they passed deeper into the trees.

In the silence of the woods they knelt and meditated for a time. Lydia fell into a meditative trance quickly, it had become easier and easier with practice and with the lessons that Kratos had given her. She extended her mind and senses into the trees around them, comforted by the interminable bastion of strength she could feel beside her. As always the time flitted by with surprising rapidity and nearly simultaneously they stood to return to camp. Despite the fact that it was now the norm, Lydia was still surprised that she rose from these meditations refreshed and energized with no hint of stiffness from being motionless for so long.

They trekked back to the camp in companionable silence. Kratos noted with satisfaction that he heard the call of a pine thrush, the signal of someone approaching while they were still a good distance off.

When they returned to the main camp the sun still had not risen, but the men were all awake and breakfast was being served. The entire picture was one of quiet precision, not at all spoiled by the low conversations and laughs as the soldiers broke their fast together.

Kratos approached a large group of the company, they all quickly set their plates aside and stood, saluting quickly. Kratos gestured quickly, "As you were. Eat." Immediately the men sat back down, retrieved their food and continued to eat. "I need volunteers for a burial detail." Immediately each raised a hand, but he continued, "None who are wounded may volunteer." Quite a few hands slowly drifted down. Kratos pointed to one of the men, "You will lead the detail. Gather 10 of your fellows and meet me at the edge of the meadow in 15 minutes."

The man saluted, "Yes, thane." and sat again, quickly finishing off the remainder of his morning meal. Soon enough the burial detail had managed to dig the five graves required. Kratos looked over the plots nodding that the requisite depth had been reached.

He gestured to the man in charge of the detail, "Go. Get your fallen brothers." With solemn nods they went, returning shortly with the fallen, wrapped in their cloaks. They placed the bodies carefully next to the graves and looked once more to Kratos.

The man cleared his throat, "Their armor, thane, should we…" he gestured somberly, trailing off.

Kratos shook his head firmly, "No. Bury them armed and armored, wrapped in their cloaks. They died as soldiers. They will be buried as soldiers." The men all nodded along, appreciating the sentiment.

The detail leader turned to the men, "Hans, go fetch their weapons. Alen, find some ropes." With quick salutes the two men in question jogged off to retrieve the requested items. The remaining party waited solemnly for them to return. The other soldiers not on sentry duty had begun to filter over and by the time the two had returned everyone had gathered at the grave sight.

Kratos gestured to the fallen, "Put their weapons in their hands." Once that was done, he nodded to the head of the detail, "Lay them to rest." With a few quick orders the man organized the details and one by one they lowered the bodies down into the simple graves. Once they were done he turned to Kratos, "Thane, should we place a headstone or marker?"

Kratos regarded him for a moment before replying, "They have their marker." He gestured to the meadow, encompassing the ashes below the surface "They are marked by their victory and the ruins of their enemies. There is no better marker." Lydia watched the solemn scene and could not help but notice more than a few of the soldiers, watching the burial intently many holding or rubbing at the omega adorned necklaces that had become so common after Lars and his men had joined them.

She turned back to see Kratos bend and place the first handful of dirt in each of the graves. Her eyes narrowed as she senses - felt? - something. There was some sense of weight to the proceedings, a light not visible to the eyes, the same that shone from the faces of many of those who looked on, omegas in hand, lips moving silently in unwritten, instinctive benedictions.

The men of the burial detail began to fill in the graves now, dirt falling quickly, as Kratos stepped back from them and the energy of the tableau began to dissipate until it was simply another Skyrim morning. Kratos and Lydia stood solemnly watching the burial. Once the graves were filled completely, Kratos turned to Lydia, "Break camp. It is time we returned."

* * *

Kratos sat at the head of the table with a strong exhale. He tapped idly at the table's surface with one thick finger for a moment before picking up the tankard before him and drinking deeply. It was good to be back in his own hall. The return to Havverfjord had been an uneventful journey at least, even if considerably slower in pace than their departure due to the number of returning wounded in their party.

Now that they were back there was much to do. Much had changed even in the couple of weeks that they had been gone hunting the Dark Brotherhood. He had seen many new buildings beginning construction even in that time. People were flooding into the town. Kratos closed his eyes as he set the mostly empty tankard down, mentally fortifying himself for what was to come. A most difficult task. Administration.

"Greetings, my thane!" came all too chipper voice as Thomas, his steward, swept into the room, carrying various ledgers and maps. He settled quickly at the table, precisely laying out all the papers he was carrying, "Now, one fact I'm certain that you'll be interested in, we now have 500 soldiers, a huge force for our region, especially for a town of our size and more are coming almost daily." He gestured to the city plan, "We have begun construction on the additional buildings necessary as most of the new recruits are camping currently. Given that, Valdr has brought forward this proposal" Thomas took the opportunity to slide a paper across to him, "detailing his recommendations for those he believes should be promoted to fill out the command structure."

Kratos nodded and glanced at it briefly, noticing that Lars was slated for a high position, "I give my approval. Take the list to Lydia. She will make whatever changes to it that are necessary."

Thomas made a note with his quill and nodded, "As you say, thane. Now regarding the city plan and its progress…"

At this point Kratos interrupted, "The graveyard will come next."

Thomas blinked, "Excuse me, my thane?"

Kratos' bass rumble continued, "For our dead. We will need five headstones immediately. Lydia will give you the names of the fallen."

Thomas nodded grimly, "I see. I will see that it is prepared immediately and arrange a stone mason for the headstones."

"Good."

The rest of the morning passed away in much the same fashion with various logistical details and the tedious aspects of governing. Of which, to be fair, Kratos had very few given his essentially laissez faire attitude towards most aspects of governance apart from infrastructure and the military.

As their discussions drew to a close, Thomas placed several sealed letters in front of Kratos, "These missives came for you while you were away, thane." He tapped the one on top with a finger, "I think this will be of particular interest to you. It is from the court wizard Farengar. It arrived just yesterday."

Kratos picked up the letter with a rumble, his brows drawing together in a slight scowl. Thomas gathered the rest of his papers and ledgers and left the room as Kratos broke the seal and perused the letter. It was brief and somewhat rude, much in keeping with Farengar.

Kratos,

You should come to Whiterun if you're not too busy hitting things or whatever it is that you do. I have an old colleague visiting from Winterhold. She mentioned they discovered some strange relics. It sounds like one of those artifacts you've been asking about.

Farengar

P.S. I do believe that you will owe me something for this.

Kratos looked at the letter for a moment with narrowed eyes, before tossing it onto the table and sitting back. His voice boomed through the hall, "Lydia!" A few moments later she entered the hall, followed by another one of the functionaries that had been hired to assist with the logistics and organization of their growing corps of soldiers. She whispered a few final words to him under her breath before striding up to Kratos. She had taken the time to freshen up but was still in full armor.

She cocked a brow at him, "Kratos?" Kratos said nothing but passed her the letter from Farengar in reply. She read it quickly, her eyebrows creeping up as she did, before reading it again and setting it down. Lydia let out a breath and leaned against the table. "Another item from your home?"

Kratos nodded, slowly tapping a finger against the polished surface of the table, "Possibly."

She nodded slowly, "Then I am all the more surprised that we are not on the road again already, making haste to Whiterun." She looked at him, puzzled, "You could hardly wait to get your hands on your axe once again."

"You are correct." His voice was low gravel, "I am… less eager to retrieve what I believe this to be."

Concern flashed across her features, "And why is that?"

His voice was gravelly and grating, "They remind me of who I once was. Of many mistakes."

"They?" she asked, raising a brow.

"You will see. Perhaps I am wrong." He stood, "In any case, even if I do not desire them, they are my responsibility." He paused before muttering under his breath, "And one I cannot escape." Lydia's eyes narrowed as her keen ears caught his words.

Kratos shook his head briefly before looking at Lydia once more, "We will take the day to see to our affairs here. In the morning we depart for Whiterun."

Lydia nodded her understanding, "Very good. I will put together an escort for us."

Kratos rumbled his agreement, "A small group. I do not wish to risk our soldiers on what is a personal errand."

Lydia tilted her head, "They are sworn to you, thane. They will do as you command."

Kratos nodded solemnly, "It is their duty. It is my duty to spend their lives as dearly as possible." His eyes bore into Lydia, "That is the duty of command, Lydia."

"We honor them as they honor us."

"Yes."

Lydia sighed gustily, "Well so much for having some time in my own room with my own bed." She gave him a sly grin, "Knowing you, this simple trip will turn into a long expedition with battles sprinkled liberally throughout."

Kratos let out a snort and flapped a hand at her, but his eyes were smiling "Enough of your cheek, girl! Away with you. We both have work to do."

Lydia gave him a courtly bow and went to leave. She paused at the door and turned back to him, "A spar later?"

Kratos looked up from the papers before him and Lydia thought she saw the corners of his mouth twitch up, "Of course. You have gotten sloppy. You let a clown stab you."

Lydia rolled her eyes and tossed her hands in the air as she stepped out, "He was a highly trained assassin! And that happened one time. One time!" She walked through the hall and thought perhaps she heard him chuckle behind her. It _would_ be good to get some sparring time with Kratos. Ever since they had begun training together it was difficult to feel like she was truly pushing herself otherwise. The training she did with the other soldiers was more for their benefit than hers.

She looked down at one hand, flexing it as she walked. She knew her limits. Or rather she had known them. Before joining Kratos' household she had been a good fighter, solid and dependable... but not a great one. Now though… She wondered how much Kratos had changed her. Not just the training but his influence. The more devout amongst the soldiers, Lars chief among, only referred to her as Redhand, as if she were some sort of saint.

A strange thought, though perhaps she was. She did follow a god. She pursed her lips as she considered the idea. If Kratos' 'blessing' resided with their men, and from their preternatural endurance and the speed with which their skills improved, she believed that it must, then surely she was party to that same blessing and in greater measure if anything.

She shook her head, focusing on the immediate tasks at hand. Whatever divine aid she received or didn't she still had a job to do. There was no use worrying about it one way or the other.

* * *

The following morning they set off for Whiterun with a group of 10 of their soldiers as support. After spending a night on the road they arrived without incident in Whiterun. Kratos led the small column at a quick jog up the rise to the gates of Whiterun, passing quickly by all the standard traffic of commerce in and out of the city. They moved in a precise lockstep despite their speed and the weight of their armor.

As they passed through the gates Lydia heard the sentry behind them call out to his compatriot, "So you didn't want to try to stop him this time, Alding?"

To which another voice replied, "Nine Divines, Gregor, you are such an arse!" Lydia simply raised a brow but said nothing. Frankly, she would be surprised if Kratos hadn't managed to have some memorable run-ins with the city guard. In fact if anything it was almost more surprising that he hadn't had a severe one.

Kratos kept the men moving through the city until he raised his fist, calling a halt in front of the Bannered Mare. He turned to the sergeant, "Baric, take the men inside. Rest. Eat. We will return when our business with the wizard is complete." The sergeant saluted quickly and then turned, leading the squad into the tavern and detailing loudly the punishment that would come down like divine punishment on any of them stupid enough to get drunk.

Kratos and Lydia missed his more inventive descriptors as they had departed immediately for Dragon's Reach. Soon enough they were tromping up the stone steps to the jarl's hall. The guards standing at the doors to the hall recognized Kratos immediately and without hesitation pulled open the large, double doors to the jarl's hall. Kratos gave them a minute nod as he swept past into the main hall.

Proventus Avenicci, steward to Jarl Balgruuf, approached when he saw Kratos enter. He drew himself up to his full, but unimpressive height before speaking, his displeasure evident in his tone, "Thane Kratos, what are you doing in Whiterun?"

Kratos did not pause or even glance in the imperial's direction, but swept past without hesitation, leaving the man spluttering indignantly in his wake. Lydia spared him a look as she swept buy, close on Kratos' heels, but similarly said nothing. The steward stalked off, fuming and muttering not so under his breath about disrespectful, jumped up barbarians with delusions of grandeur.

Catching some of his diatribe, Lydia's brows drew down and her gauntlet creaked in her clenched fist. Kratos' voice caught her, as he spoke without turning or deviating from his course, "No. We have no need to address the toothless, yapping of old dogs."

At that, Lydia relaxed and let out a chuckle, "When you put it like that, my thane, I can't disagree." Kratos merely let out a small rumble in reply and continued on his way. He swept into Farengar's workroom and came to an abrupt halt before the mage. The room was strewn with alchemical equipment, strange curios and old things. Farengar, who was examining a soul gem, suddenly noticed the ashen titan before him and let out a yelp, tossing the gem into the air in surprise. After batting it back up into the air once, he managed to seize the gem and get a good grip on it again.

"Must you do that?" snapped Farengar, "I _truly_ do not understand how someone that big," he gestured sharply at Kratos, "can be so quiet."

Kratos let out a dull rumble, "I am not quiet. You are inattentive."

Farengar actually looked somewhat offended at the remark before letting out a sniff and replying, "Some things simply do not merit my attention. I am a very busy man."

"Then do not waste my time. What relic do you have news of?"

Farengar shrugged, "Straight to the point then. As expected. Like I wrote in my letter, a colleague from my days in Winterhold has come to Whiterun and brought disturbing news." Farengar set the shining gem down on the table, "Probably best that we cut out the middle man." He walked to the door and flagged down a passing servant, spoke to him briefly and then returned to Kratos and Lydia.

The mage sat with a huff. "I've sent a servant for Satheri. She should be here soon." Kratos simply nodded and said nothing, standing with folded arms as still and impassive as a monolith of stone. Lydia, for her part, sat on the edge of the work table, ignoring Farengar's disapproving glare, and proceeded to watch the naturally animated mage grow more and more fidgety and unnerved by Kratos' stillness and the silence that had filled the room.

Farengar cleared his throat, "So…" he said looking over at Lydia, "how, uh, is your little town? What's it called again, uh… H something. Hari - no - Haldisbu…" The mage trailed off lamely at Lydia's completely impassive face.

The next moment the servant entered with a tall, thin dunmer woman following. Farengar threw his hands in the air, "Thank the Divines!" Ignoring the odd looks from the two newcomers, Farengar stood and walked around the table to them, muttering as he did so. The court mage cleared his throat once more and began to make the introductions, "Satheri, this is Thane Kratos and she is Lydia, his housecarl." He gestured to each in turn before pointing back to Satheri, "And this is Satheri Rothandus, a very competent mage and colleague of mine from my time at the College of Winterhold." They all exchanged a cordial nod as the wizard looked on.

Farengar clapped his hands together, "Excellent. Now that we are all acquainted, I think we should take a seat." He indicated the odd mismatch of chairs that surrounded them, "This may take a little time." After a few moments everyone had settled into a seat, though Kratos did appear almost comically large in the small chair that held him. Farengar continued, "Satheri comes with troubling news from Winterhold. News that may interest you Kratos and this meeting may also provide a solution to Satheri's problem, so I thought it best to bring you both together." Farengar sat back with a smile, looking, all in all, rather pleased with himself.

After a moment of silence, Satheri spoke, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, thane. I do not know what interest you may have in this matter as it is far outside Whiterun hold and farther from your own holdings." She let out a small sigh, "We were studying a ruin in the Hold. I won't bore you with the details, but we made two very significant discoveries. Strange and likely ancient relics of great power." Her hands clenched into fists in her lap, "Shortly after our discovery, the Thalmor swept in, threatened our lives and ejected us from the site."

Lydia and Kratos exchanged a look at the mention of the Thalmor. Which Satheri's keen eyes noted. "It seems you have had your own experiences with the Thalmor." the dunmeri mage stated.

Kratos' amber eyes met her dark ones, "Yes. I have no patience for them." He paused a moment before continuing, "Tell me of these relics."

At that Satheri looked somewhat uncomfortable, but at an urging gesture from Farengar she spoke, "One is a large floating orb. It is covered in ancient sigils and writings the likes of which we have never seen. It is a _font_ of raw magicka! If one were to tap into its power…" She shrugged and quietly continued, "There's no telling what a talented mage could accomplish."

Satheri could see that the ashen giant's interest was quickly waning, but his gravelly voice broke in again, "And the other item. What of it?"

Satheri shook her head in bewilderment, "That is, if anything, even stranger. They _burned_ their way up through the stone, as if searing their way into existence." She could see that she had his complete attention now, "I don't know what these strange blades are or where they came from, but when one of our expedition touched them he burned with an unquenchable flame." She swallowed hard, "It was _horrifying._"

Lydia was watching Kratos' face throughout the explanation. She saw him close his eyes and let out a resigned sigh before focusing again on the elf. Kratos took a moment before replying, "Where is this ruin?"

Satheri cocked a brow, it was clear to her that the man's interest was only in the strange blades they had discovered, "I can mark it on your map." She cleared her throat softly, "Why do you want the blades? Do you know what they are?"

Kratos stood, his voice a low growl, "They are mine. My responsibility."

Farengar stood as well, clapping his hands, "Which solves your problem!" he smirked, pointing at Kratos.

Satheri interjected again, "The Thalmor will not let you take them. They -"

Kratos cut her off, his voice harsh and cold, "Then they will die."

"Ha!" Farengar burst out and pointed to Satheri, "Which solves _your_ problem!" He folded his arms, a smug smile upon his face.

Disapproval wrote itself large across the dunmer's face, "Farengar! I do not want an open battle! I simply do not trust the Thalmor with those items and yes, I admit I do want our research site back."

Satheri fell silent as a map was thrust into her lap. She looked up to see Kratos holding out a quill to her. "Mark the ruin on the map." The command was clear in his voice and it sent a primal chill down her spine. She swallowed and despite her reservations marked the location of Saarthal on this strange thane's map. The instant she was done he rolled and stowed the map.

Kratos turned to Lydia, "Go gather the men and purchase supplies for an extended journey." Lydia saluted briskly and immediately jogged out of the room. Kratos made to follow her at a slower pace, but paused in the doorway and turned back. "Wizard. Tell the jarl I will be killing more Thalmor. He will want to know."

* * *

**AN:** Apologies to everyone for the unintentional hiatus that we had here. Work got crazy for a while, I got the 'Rona for a bit (nothing serious at all, pretty mild) and it kicked me out of my writing cycle.

In any case, thanks all for the notes I got inquiring about my health and wishing me well.

I do need to say we just broke a full 1000 follows and are coming up on that in favorites for the story which is pretty dang awesome. I do love the reception that this has gotten. I never would have expected it.

A bit of a quiet chapter here, but next time we get to the part that a lot of you have been waiting for for a long time.

As always please take a minute or two to leave a review, I love hearing from all of you and your feedback means a lot to me. Thanks again for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

"My answer remains the same, Proventus. No." Jarl Balgruuf scowled in frustration. "I will _not_ have imperial soldiers garrisoned in Whiterun or anywhere in my hold. Our neutrality holds the balance and stops either side from wanting to begin open war." He let out a long and weary sigh, "As long war hasn't broken out, there is a chance for a peaceful resolution. And I _won't_ give the Thalmor the satisfaction of an open civil war if I can help it."

He stood from his desk and went over to the map table which showed all of Skyrim in detail. Balgruuf leaned against it, "For all of her diplomatic posturing you can tell that snake Elenwen is just _waiting_ for us to start killing each other."

Proventus rubbed wearily at his forehead, "As you say, my lord. I would be remiss in my duties though not to provide my counsel." He dropped his hand back to his side, "I understand your view, but it is idealistic. The reality is that this war will come. If we support the empire strongly now, we can at least do so on our terms, with the majority of the holds and end the conflict quickly, minimizing bloodshed."

The old imperial walked up to the map and gestured to the stormcloak holds, "I do not wish to see Skyrim bleed. But it is inevitable. All we can do now is attempt to mitigate the damage."

Balgruuf let out a bitter chuckle, "Perhaps I am naive, Proventus. But we must try." He clenched a fist, "We must try to stop tensions from escalating further." Up to this point neither of them had noticed Farengar standing and fidgeting awkwardly in the doorway. The mage shifted nervously from foot to foot and had been looking for an opportunity to interject for some time.

Proventus laid a hand on the jarl's shoulder, "Not naive, my lord. Principled. But I fear that few share those principles -" He was interrupted by a very loud and obviously fake cough from the doorway.

Jarl Balgruuf turned, "Farengar?" He raised a brow at the odd mage, taking in his agitation, "What is it?" The mage swallowed, hesitating, which prompted an impatient 'get-on-with-it' hand gesture from Proventus.

"I, uh, apologize for interrupting, my lord, but I, uh, have a message. From Thane Kratos." Farengar paused again looking decidedly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Balgruuf's brow creased, "Out with it, man."

"Well, uh… Kratos said, 'Tell the jarl I will be killing more Thalmor. He will want to know.'" Silence ruled the room for a moment before both the jarl and Proventus turned to look at each other.

Jarl Balgruuf slowly turned his head back to Farengar, "Did I hear you correctly?"

Farengar swallowed heavily, "I am afraid so, jarl."

Balgruuf pinched the bridge of his nose briefly, brows drawn together, "Where is he now?"

"Likely he has just left the city."

The jarl remained in his pained posture, "Did he mention why?"

Farengar folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe, "He believes that they have something that belongs to him."

"_Excellent. _So there's going to be no dissuading him."

Proventus was tapping his chin thoughtfully, "We can send a party after him?"

Balgruuf looked to the wizard, "Do you know where he's going?"

Farengar nodded, "Saarthal, my lord, in Winterhold." He went over to the table and tapped the location on the map, "Here."

Balgruuf turned back to Proventus, "It won't work. He'll be cutting across country then. There's no catching him in rough country. He moves too blasted _fast_. Besides, sending more men into a stormcloak hold we risk a broader escalation and open war."

They stood in somber silence, all looking at the map for a time before Farengar spoke again, "Look at the brightside, my lord."

Balgruuf gave him a look of exasperation and raised a frustrated brow at him, "And what _exactly _would that be?"

"It's possible no one will know he was even there. He does have a tendency not to leave survivors.

Balgruuf opened his mouth to give a scathing reply, but instead he stopped, blinked and shut his mouth. A beat later the jarl turned back to Proventus with a thoughtful look on his face and gave him a small shrug, "That actually is a very good point."

* * *

The vista seemed almost two dimensional, no depth perceptible, with the flat grey light of the overcast day washing out all detail in the snow blanketed landscape. Saarthal stood out starkly, an excavation down into the earth, revealing stone and ancient ruins, clashing with the unrelieved white of the snow.

A bitter wind rushed along the snow-wrapped hills pulling along frozen crystals in its wake. The wind twined about two crouched and silent watchers who observed closely the ruins, eyes keen to any movement or sign of life. Lydia crouched, motionless, the chill wind blowing a loose strand of dark hair across her face, contrasting against her pale skin and the deep red of her war paint.

Lydia was surprised. Winterhold as always lived up to its name and winter held a firm grip on icy hills around them. It was a bitter wind that cut over them, racing down from the frigid Sea of Ghosts, cold enough to numb a man in moments or kill a foolish one with time. Lydia, however, while chilled, didn't find it insupportable. She flexed a hand experimentally. She wasn't numb and she knew she could still fight if she had to.

She cast a somewhat surreptitious look to her right where Kratos knelt. Kratos had made no compromise to the weather and persisted with his normal attire, the majority of his torso bare to the biting weather. The cold had as much impact on him as it did upon the stone he sat next to. Again, she flexed her sword hand and could not help but wonder if some of that virtue or power had rubbed off on her.

Kratos' low rumble carried easily through the whistling of the wind, "Enough. It seems they are inside." He turned to face Lydia, "Gather the men. We will go down now. They need the shelter." Lydia nodded and followed their track back around the crown of the hill to where the rest of their party waited out of sight of the ruins.

She straightened and sped up once she had rounded the hill and came quickly to the waiting men. She could tell at a glance that they were not enduring the cold with the same vigor that she and Kratos enjoyed. They looked a miserable lot, wrapped tightly in their gear and still shivering. Lydia smiled as she approached and the sergeant spoke when she neared, "What news, redhand? To battle with the Thalmor?" He blew out a gusty breath, creating billowing fog in the arctic air, "Anything to get the blood moving, eh?" He rubbed his hands together forcefully.

Lydia chuckled, "We are approaching. But we will not initiate hostilities. We can take shelter inside, or at least out of the wind."

The man smiled, "Aye." and saluted quickly before spinning to the others, "Up lads and quick! You heard the Redhand. Form up!"

In short order they were moving in a quick, tight column towards Saarthal. They did not bother to disguise their approach, feeling that speed was their greater ally. Any watcher would pick them out against the flat white with ease. However no cry was raised and soon enough they were descending the wooden scaffolds and paths down into the Saarthal excavation.

It was clear that the expedition was focused around the main building as it was the only cleared door. There were remnants of a camp and equipment outside but it was clear that essentially everything had been moved into the underground ruins proper.

Without pause Kratos strode up to the ancient metallic door and pushed it open. It swung open with little sound and remarkable ease, though Lydia could not tell if that was due to the quality of the construction or Kratos' immense strength. The entire party followed hot on his heels, eager to be out of the biting cold of that bleak and barren waste.

"Halt!" came an immediate and strident voice, "Go no further!" They had come into a large entry hall, strange urns and sconces filled with odd and indeterminate detritus lined the walls. Torches burned from their hooks on the wall and fire burned merrily in a pit in the center of the room. Two rather unfriendly looking Thalmor justicars, each was in an aggressive stance, with magicka lighting their hands.

For the moment Kratos ignored them and turned to the sergeant, "Stay here. Alternate sentries on the outside. Short shifts. Eat. Rest. Lydia and I will speak with the Thalmor."

At this point the other justicar broke in, his voice nearly as cold as the wind outside, "You will _not_ be staying here. This site has been claimed by the Thalmor and you will leave immediately."

Kratos turned and took a few large strides toward the justicars, before looking down his nose at them, "Take me to your leader. Immediately." The justicar paused and glanced at his compatriot, a flash of uncertainty glimmering in his eyes. Kratos continued, "This is beyond your authority."

The elf hesitated for a moment before narrowing his eyes and speaking once more, "Very well. You will follow me." He turned quickly and caught the other justicar, muttering, "Stay here. If they so much as _breathe_ wrong, signal _everyone_." The other elf nodded and backed towards the tunnel that led deeper into the complex, keeping a sharp eye on all of Kratos' men.

The first justicar turned with a sniff and left the room, not bothering to see if Kratos and Lydia were actually following him. The altmer led them through various halls and twisted galleries of stone, twining deeper into the earth. All of the stone work was intricately wrought with ancient, knot-like nordic designs and runes. In some places the original stairs or paths had crumbled and given way to time, and had been replaced by rough-and-ready woodwork of the researchers to ease their exploration.

All the while Kratos could feel the blades growing nearer, sense the heat and resonance of their presence like an infernal heart beating somewhere deeper in the ruins. Despite that, Kratos' face was entirely impassive, resigned as he was to taking up that burden once again.

They entered a larger chamber with a raised dais at the far end. The room had a tall vaulted ceiling and the walls were lined with ancient nordic sarcophagi. There were tables and chairs strewn about the room which seemed to serve as some sort of hub for the Thalmor judging by the number of elves reading or sitting about. On the dais was a tall elf with his hands planted on the table he leaned over, examining the papers and books strewn before him.

Notice of their entry was immediate and the conversation in the room immediate fell to a muted buzz as every eye locked on to them. Their guide led them towards the elf on the dais who was no glaring at them, his face clearly showing his displeasure and distaste at their presence. He clearly held some sort of rank as his garb had more embellishment than the standard dark uniform of the Thalmor justicars.

The elf straightened and came around the table to the edge of the dais as they approached, stopping at the top of the stairs that ringed the platform, "Valion, why have you brought _these_ here rather than sending them away as ordered."

The sentry bowed, "Their party was too large to reliably send away with force and this man," he gestured to Kratos, "says that he has business here."

The other elf's voice lashed out as his eyes caught on one of the elves in the room, "Send a detachment to the entrance now." He returned his attention to them, cold golden eyes narrowed, "We will discuss your failings later." At that the sentry paled, clearly dreading the conversation.

Kratos stepped forward, "You lead this expedition?"

The elf sneered down at him, "You will leave this place. Immediately."

Kratos stood, completely impassive, arms crossed, "No. I have come for what is mine."

The elf's eyes widened for a moment before he let out a sharp chuckle, "No?" The Thalmor agent slowly approached, taking his time down the stairs, "You will do as you are told." He gestured around them, "You are in a hall of justicars who would kill you at my command." The tension was palpable as the remaining elves had all stood, though no weapons had yet been drawn. He continued in a glacial tone, "More than that… _Kratos, _you are suspected of several crimes against the Thalmor. An attack on our justicars. An attack on our embassy. Crimes for which we could see you hang." The elf, who despite being quite tall, still glared upwards at Kratos with venom in his gaze.

Silence reigned for a moment as the elf attempted to stare down the monolithic titan before him. The quiet was shattered by a sudden rolling laugh from Lydia. The elf switched his glare to Lydia as her laughter quieted to a chuckle and the other justicars traded puzzled glances.

Lydia held up a calming hand, the occasional snicker still breaking through, "So let me see if I understand." She couldn't stop a grin creeping across her face, "You believe that this man," she indicated Kratos, "broke into your embassy, burned it down, and slaughtered your people."

Lydia held up a finger, "Moreover! You think he killed a party of justicars. One of whom," her voice became abruptly serious and forceful, "was _literally ripped in half_." She let that hang in the air for a moment before another chuckle escaped as she pointed to the elf, "And you thought it would be a good idea to get within _arm's reach_ of him? _After_ threatening him?" She shrugged, "That would seem to me to be a tactically unsound decision."

The Thalmor looked suddenly extremely uncomfortable, eyeing warily the small distance remaining between himself and Kratos. He took a small step backwards, but Kratos, smooth as oil, stepped forward the exact distance, maintaining perfectly the space between them.

His voice was blunt, rough, and laden with the weight of hanging menace, "You do not understand, elf. I _will_ take what is mine. All that is left to you is to choose whether you and your men will die trying to stop me." His amber eyes bore into the elf before he abruptly turned away, the sudden motion causing some of the justicars to raise their hands in preparation to cast spells.

Kratos closed his eyes a moment, ignoring the pale elf and took a breath. He could feel them. _Smell_ them. Metal, smoke and blood. He opened his eyes and glanced at Lydia, she was staring off in the direction of the blades as well. She was learning. Kratos set off towards the appropriate passage immediately, feeling Lydia drop in on his right flank, her eyes assessing the justicars they passed.

The Thalmor leader's voice broke the tomb like silence, as he ordered with a quaver, "Stop him." The justicars before Kratos, blocked the exit, exchanging glances amongst the four of them.

Kratos did not slow his steady approach, "Move. Or be moved."

The justicars raised their hands, prepared spells dancing between their fingers, casting highlights across their angular faces. One called back, "Stop! Come no closer or we will use force!" His call had no impact on Kratos' measured approach.

The elf then made a very foolish decision.

A razor sharp spike of ice leapt from the justicar's hand, rushing towards Kratos. However in the same moment Kratos burst forward. As he passed the blade of ice he turned slightly letting the spell pass close by him. His hand dropped down, grasping the spike and he continued his rush. In an eye-blink he was there. The next thing the justicars saw was Kratos ramming the spike of ice through the head of the one who cast it. With a gut wrenching crunch, blood and bone flew.

Kratos was already among them. At its master's call the leviathan axe whipped off of his back and into his already swinging hands. The blade crashed through the next justicar's chest, tearing through him like so much stained paper, hurling a broad arc of black arterial spray. The third caught his back stroke, which cleaved the elf's head in half, leaving only his jaw and another red fountain. The final elf near Kratos managed to get off a spell, but in his panic, the bolt of lightning flew wide, passing harmlessly by the blood stained embodiment of slaughter before him. He got no chance for another as a booted foot connected with his chest, shattering his bones and casting him down the tunnel he had attempted to guard.

Lydia knew when the fight was going to begin, it was almost as if she heard a whispered warning from Kratos moments before. She moved at the same time as her thane, if not with the same divine speed, feeling his presence blaze as the battle was joined. Even so, the justicar she rushed would have described her sprint as supernaturally quick if he ever had the opportunity. Lydia's blade leapt from its scabbard directly into a surgical stroke, opening the justicar's neck.  
One of the long heavy tables in the room, divided her from her next target. Lydia continued her run without missing a step, bounding up onto a chair and then the table top. There was no conscious thought in her mind when she saw the elf unleash a fireball against her. She kept her speed and leapt off the table at him. Lydia tucked her legs up, hiding her body behind her round shield. Instinctively, she drew on the monolithic pillar of power near her and hardened will upon her shield.

The spell struck her dead on, in mid flight. It detonated with a blast and billow of flame that was ill-advised for the small space, but caused by the surprise and effort with which it was cast. The spell washed over and across her shield billowing around the barrier, but passing her by as she soared through it.

The justicar smiled in relief and satisfaction when his fireball struck that cursed nord. He expected his next sight to be her ruined body blasted back across the room. However that relief was short lived as a moment later as he saw a shield come streaking like a comet out of the billows of black, arcane smoke.

Lydia stayed tucked behind her shield and struck him with meteoric force. Lydia dropped her legs and managed to stay on her feet, though she slid as she regained her balance. The justicar on the other hand was knocked senseless and hurled across the floor.

She had barely righted herself when her sense of danger flared once more and she spun, blade flashing in the torchlight. Lydia managed to redirect the razor shaft of conjured ice that would have impaled her, using her sword to redirect it just enough to sail by her harmlessly. Her brows snapped down as her eyes locked on the justicar that had cast the spell. Suddenly a slash of chill blue light struck the elf. He fell immediately, heart snap-frozen between beats by the primordial cold of Nifelheim. Her eyes shot along the hoarfrost riming the air in the projectile's path and saw Kratos, standing tall, his axe shedding ice.

Kratos watched the justicar fall, struck by the power he had channelled through the leviathan axe's runes. Kratos hurled his axe without looking, knowing without sight when it found its target and took their life. Kratos broke into a run at the pair of remaining justicars. They hurled their magicka at him, hoping that their assault would slow or deter him. He ignored their spells. The lightning crawled over his skin, finding no purchase. He had weathered far worse storms. They were no Magni or Modi.

Kratos leapt the last 20 feet, soaring through the air. The leviathan axe sped back to his raised hands, reaching him at the apex of his jump. Kratos brought the axe crashing down, landing in a flash and explosion of force, light and unspeakable cold. The flash frozen bodies of the justicars were thrown away from him, cracking and falling into pieces as they struck the ground.

The room settled into silence in the aftermath of the battle. Lydia's breath fogged the air as the frigid power of Kratos' attacks diffused itself throughout the room. They exchanged a look before Lydia shrugged and spoke, "Well. Thalmor. That went better than I expected honestly."

Kratos nodded as he crossed the room back towards her, "Indeed. It was surprising they did not attack immediately." Lydia fell in at his side as he walked past, headed once more in the direction of the blazing essence that drew their attention. Lydia could sense it easily now as well, moreover could sense how it stretched towards her than with… longing? She shook her head, perhaps now she was reading too much into these impressions.

They wound through the tunnels using the beacon of the blades as a lodestone to draw them in. Still it took some time as the passages of Saarthal were convoluted and all rather similar in appearance. It was for that reason that very quickly, Kratos took to marking their path, scoring the intersections through which they passed.

They came upon a few more Thalmor as they delved deeper into Saarthal. Whether they were stragglers or patrols was not clear, but their bones joined those of the ancient nords all the same.

Kratos slowed as they approached a chamber, a portion of it visible through the open double doors. "Here." His voice was a dull rumble, somehow even lower than its normal bass tone.

Lydia noted his hesitation and bumped him with a shoulder, causing him to look down at her. Her concern was evident on her face, in the crease of her brow, "Whatever deeds these blades bring to mind, you are not that person any longer." Her voice was resolute, "I know well who I follow, and I follow a good man. Taking these doesn't change that."

Kratos nodded, "I know." He let out a heavy breath through his nose, "I have done good with the blades as well. But they will always be a burden. Come." With that he strode forward, Lydia hot on his heels. The room was open and bare, the area around the blades had obviously been cleared by the mages, leaving them surrounded by bare stone. The short broad blades shimmered in the heat haze, their jagged ages made their purpose clear. More, even, than implements or war, these were implements of slaughter.

Kratos approached with no hesitation and bending down seized the blades. He tore them from the raw stone and stood for a moment considering the weapons in his hands. To Lydia the essence of the blades immediately diminished from her perception, subsumed into the power and presence of the god of war. Kratos lay the blades down again and began to haul the long chains attached to the pommels from the rock. The heat of the chains and the flecks of molten stone that came off of them Kratos ignored as if they did not exist. To Lydia's eyes it was if he were pulling the chains straight out of oblivion.

With a beleaguered sigh, Kratos set aside his gauntlets and began to wrap the chains around his forearms. Lydia's eyes bulged as she saw the chains fall into the tracks of the old scars that ran around his powerful forearms. Kratos' mind wandered as he fell into the old action, truly these chains did bind him for a good portion of his early life but he had been his own jailer.

The process went quickly, with the ease of long repetition and Kratos replaced his gauntlets, sheathing the blades at his lower back, tucked through a belt. Lydia eyed the set up askance before shrugging, "I will have some proper sheathes made once we return to Havverfjord. Bori will leap at the chance to make something for you."

Kratos nodded, rolling his shoulders, "He will get his wish. This arrangement is… not ideal."

Lydia froze then, hearing something, but not with her ears. There was something else in Saarthal, something more subtle than the blades. Before she hadn't noticed it, but with the blades no longer calling to Kratos it became evident. She turned to look at Kratos, "My thane, do you…?"

He nodded, staring deeper into the complex, "Yes. It is powerful." Kratos let out a displeased rumble. They considered this new sensation for a few moments.

Lydia cleared her throat, "I know that we have accomplished our stated goal here. But I have concerns about allowing the Thalmor to keep whatever this is." She shook her head, "Divines, I wouldn't even trust them with a spoon."

Kratos flexed his hands, settling the chains around his arms, "Your point is well taken. We will capture or destroy this item." Lydia nodded her agreement and followed him from the room. Once more they went delving deeper through Saarthal's tunnels and passageways, passing by ancient dwellings, mosaics and frescoes that composed the subterranean settlement.

It was clear that they were drawing near as not only did their sense of the target grow stronger, but they began to encounter more physical security as well. Old portcullises and other measures that proved to be no obstacle for Kratos' titanic strength.

After Kratos pulled apart the final portcullis they entered a large two tiered chamber from the upper level. Down below them lay a large, ornate sarcophagus which lay before a stone table and a throne. There were scorch marks adorning the nearby stone, clear signs of a magical battle that had taken place. There were several cloth shrouded bodies laying against the nearby wall, clearly fresh and presumably justicars.

None of that however, was what stood out in the room. In the large open space deeper in the immense chamber floated a strange orb. It was twice the height of a man and composed of various metal plates that fit together with a puzzle like quality. Glowing arcane runes lined the edges of the pieces, and from the tiny gaps between them shone a powerful blue light. The sphere rotated in place, floating peacefully 10 feet above a large platform adorned with the same unknown symbols.

Kratos and Lydia slowly descended a set of stone stairs to the lower level where the object awaited them. "My thane, do you have any idea what this is?" Lydia asked softly.

Kratos shook his head, eyes pouring over the runes, "No. I have not seen its like."

"Nor will you again." A haughty voice cut through the room, as a tall elf walked calmly into view. He continued, "The Eye is a font of magicka in its purest form. A connection to Magnus, the god of magick, himself!" The elf turned to them, his smile sharp as a razor and his eyes hard, "There are no limits to what a skilled mage can accomplish with such power."

Kratos said nothing but slowly drew forth his blades instead. The elf's eyes widened when he saw the blades, before narrowing even further. "You have claimed the other relic of Saarthal I see. Most interesting."

Kratos' fists clenched around the hilts, and his voice cut across the chamber, "Leave and live. Or stay and die."

The elf let out a cackle, throwing his head back for a moment before focusing on them once more, "You presume to command me? I have the Eye of Magnus! With this I am a _god_!"

That said the Thalmor mage raised his hand and let loose a blinding bolt of lightning. The bolt caught Kratos and hurled him back across the chamber where he slammed into the wall with a grunt. Lydia gaped only for a bare instant before diving into cover behind a thick stone pillar.

Kratos landed on his feet, steam rising from his ashen skin, "Very well." He grated through clenched teeth, and rocketed forward. Flames burst into being along the blades, lighting his charge. The elf's jaw dropped in shock that not only did the man survive his attack, but was now charging at him, and moving faster than should ever be possible.

The mage raised a magical shield, empowered by the Eye, just in time. Kratos whipped the blades in an arc, releasing the hilts and sending them flying out on the chains that bound them to him. They struck the shield with colossal heat and force, moreover the elf could feel the blades gnawing into his shield like living, ravenous things. He stumbled with the force of the blow, shocked for a moment before hurling another blast of Kratos.

Kratos turned the bolt aside with one of the blades and spat, "You are no god, little mage." He leapt forward both blades extended, held tightly in his fists. The mage raised his own hands and met him with a torrent of arcane power, arresting Kratos' forward momentum. Kratos clenched his teeth and pressed forward, the blades spitting gouts of hellish flame.

The elf drew even more power from the Eye opening himself up as a conduit and pouring that torrent of magical energy at the pale man before him. The Eye itself spun faster, the metallic shell that composed it opened and the plates began to shift and realign, showing what the sphere contained. It looked almost like the sun in miniature, a star of magicka trapped on the mortal plane, shining with a furious blue light that cast harsh shadows across the battlefield.

As Kratos slowly pressed forward he was forced to admit his surprise. It appeared that the mage had not been exaggerating. The power he channeled was enormous and quite possibly was the power of another god. Kratos managed another step, his own divine strength contesting with that of Magnus. He could see the elf's eyes locked on him, his face a mask of deranged focus. Kratos took another step forward. Perhaps he would need to reconsider his approach.

Kratos stumbled forward and nearly fell when the torrent of magicka seeking to destroy him abruptly vanished. He looked up and saw the elf's shocked face staring down at the bloody length of steel protruding from his chest. With a jerk Lydia wrenched her sword from the mage's back and watched as he staggered about to face her. He scowled and tried to speak but merely let a gout of blood burst from his mouth before falling.

Lydia looked up from the corpse and met Kratos' eyes for a moment before shrugging, "Poor tactical awareness."

Kratos barked out a laugh, "Indeed." He walked up to Lydia, the corners of his eyes crinkled, "Well done, girl."

She smiled back at him, "Thank you." The both turned to examine the floating relic as it slowly closed once more, hiding its internal sun behind runed plates. Lydia tossed a hand at the sphere, "What are we supposed to do about that?"

Kratos stood silently, considering the orb for a moment, before crossing his arms and speaking, "We will not be able to hide it. We must destroy it here."

Lydia's eyes were still glued to the floating Eye of Magnus, "Not to imply any lack of faith in your abilities, my thane, but _can_ this be destroyed?"

Kratos let out a rumble, "I have not yet encountered something that can not be." Lydia gave him a look and a grin before shaking her head and backing away from the orb.

A new, soft voice spoke behind them, "Kratos and Lydia." They both spun, weapons in hand and Lydia dove immediately to the side not allowing them to be one target and coming back to her feet in a roll. The blades of chaos wept gobbets of flame in Kratos' grip, providing a ruddy red glow to contend with the blue from the Eye.

A good distance from them stood a slim figure wrapped in a pale yellow robe with the hood drawn up. The woman, judging by the voice, continued, "The God of War and his red right hand." She bowed from the waist, hand stills linked behind her back. "The Psijic Order thanks you. The Eye of Magnus in the hands of the Thalmor and Ancanno would have been an unmitigated disaster and bathed all of Tamriel in blood."

Kratos eyed the stranger for a moment, his aggressive stance not easing in slightest, still poised to attack, "What do you want?"

The psijic straightened, "The same as you, Ghost of Sparta, to remove the Eye of Magnus from reach."

Kratos' voice was harder and colder as he bit out, "You will not call me that."

The psijic bowed again, "My apologies, it was not my wish to offend. We knew only the title, not its import." She straightened again, "The Eye lay hidden for millennia. We would hide it again and see it remain unused. It is too powerful and will only cause bloodshed if left on Tamriel."

Kratos glanced at Lydia, "What do you know of this Psijic Order?"

Lydia kept her gaze locked on the mage but answered, "From what I have read in the jarl's library they are an ancient order of mages who have long advised the rulers of Tamriel, counseling patience and peace. They were once based on an island in Summerset but when the Thalmor came to power they left and took their island with them to an unknown place." She glanced at Kratos, "Psijics may actually be able to hide this thing."

Kratos relaxed his stance but his weapons remained drawn, "And how would you move this relic?"

"I would summon my colleagues and together we would teleport the Eye and ourselves back to Artaeum. None would be able to follow or find it again."

Kratos let out a rumble, "Its destruction is more sure."

The mage bobbed her head agreeably, "Certainly. However we fear that in addition to an apocalyptic discharge of magicka, one that would likely forever alter Skyrim and perhaps the continent, it may also damage the fabric of reality." She smiled, "We cannot be sure. We deemed containment the safer course."

Kratos' amber eyes bore into the mage for a minute before he sheathed his weapons, "Take it."

The mage bowed her head in thanks before turning and raising her hands. She cried a few words in an unknown tongue and in a flash arcane light eight more similarly attired mages stepped from thin air. Ignoring Kratos and Lydia they quickly surrounded the Eye of Magnus, raised their hands and began chanting. A charge began to build in the air, tugging at the senses and the hairs on Lydia's arms stood up.

With a sudden snap they were gone and the Eye with them. The air shifted in the chamber as it moved to fill the void left by the spell. Lydia looked wide eyed at the spot for a time before shaking her head, "What now?"

Kratos simply shrugged, "We go home."

* * *

**AN:** Another chapter that was longer in coming than it should have been.

A big thank you to all the reviewers and those who follow and favorite! It's wonderful to get feedback from you.

I do hope that the showdown with Ancanno didn't feel too anti-climactic. I just hate that dude and it seemed way more fitting for him to have an ignominious death rather than an epic battle.

Please leave me a review and let me know what you liked or what you didn't. I love specific feedback.

Stay safe and happy everyone!


	20. Chapter 20

First Emissary Elenwen sat in her appropriated office, tapping her long, lacquered nails against the surface of the desk in a sharp staccato. A scowl twisted her face, something that was as an almost a permanent feature these days. It kept her assistants and the other Thalmor walking on eggshells in her presence.

The office seemed to close in around her, the damnable space seeming smaller and smaller the more time she was forced to use this glorified broom closet as her office. The fact that it was actually reasonably spacious and clearly furnished with quality and taste was irrelevant to her given the opulence and size of her original offices that had been reduced to ash. Construction had begun already to replace the building, but despite the breakneck pace of work that she demanded, it would still take months to replace the building. Not to mention the many curios and pieces of art she had brought with her from Summerset that would be far more difficult to replace.

Elenwen looked down at the desk again, picking up the two folders that lay before her and glaring at them. It seemed she was doomed to run into complication after complication these days. She opened the first and looked over its contents again. It was a report from one of the Dominion's informants in Falkreath.

It seemed that the Dark Brotherhood was no more. Even if there were any survivors, the organization was in no shape to be an asset to the Dominion any time soon. Her agent had investigated a column of smoke and found the ruins of the Dark Brotherhood's sanctuary which had not only been burned out, but collapsed.

Her jaw clenched. And of course, _of course_, a pale tattooed man of significant height was noted as passing through the hold around the same time. Not only had that blasted cult of assassins failed to actually terminate their target, they were hunted down and destroyed instead! She was surrounded by incompetence! It would certainly be in keeping with her recent luck if they managed to implicate her and the Thalmor in some way before going and getting themselves all killed.

Elenwen let out a frustrated breath. That possibility at least seemed remote. If there were any evidence she imagined that Whiterun's new attack dog would have acted on it by now. Weeks had passed and that barbarian hadn't come to try and kick down the door. At least the assassin's had managed to take their secrets with them to the grave.

She tossed aside the first dossier and opened the second one waiting underneath. Saarthal. The project had seemed so promising at the start. Once they received word of the possible discovery of powerful relics, Ancanno had been dispatched with a group of justicars without delay. Her brows knit in a furious scowl. Everything had been going well for a time. Ancanno had sent a glowing report, the mages had been successfully ejected without bloodshed and there were indeed relics under Saarthal.

Then everything went sideways. No word out of Saarthal in a month. Elenwen had grown impatient and dispatched an additional unit to find out what had happened. They found only the dead waiting for them. Every member of the original expeditionary force was confirmed killed in action, many of horrible wounds.

Elenwen had no proof but she could not help but feel that that damnable Kratos was responsible for the slaughter. The brutality of a number of the kills certainly seemed to support that. Elenwen's lip curled in a sneer, not that the up-jumped ruffian had any sort of monopoly on brutality. This whole Divines forsaken province was filled with unwashed barbarians. She slammed the file back down on the desk; gods, she hated Skyrim!

* * *

The building was almost entirely one large room, a congregation hall. The workmanship was good but the materials were very simple and very local. Construction had finished quite recently as winter was slackening its hold on Skyrim. Unlike most winters, construction had not taken this season off. Havverfjord was simply growing far too quickly to allow that much time off. Construction had slowed yes, but no project was fully halted.

The congregation hall was filled with rows of light stackable chairs that could be cleared quickly and easily for the hall to be used as a training space. Many of the seats were filled now and Lars stood at the front of the hall on a raised platform. Behind him were doors that lead to a few utility and storage rooms for the building.

Lars reached up and briefly gripped the steel omega that hung from a simple leather cord around his neck. With a final quick squeeze, he cleared his throat quickly and stepped up to the podium. Silence fell quickly in the hall as the muted buzz of low conversations ceased.

His blue eyes blazed as he looked out over the assembled faces, many races were here and even if nords made up the strong majority, they were all drawn here by common purpose. "I am happy to see so many. Happy to see faces familiar to me and happy also," he raised a hand in the general direction of an elf he had invited to attend earlier, "to see new faces. _All_ are always welcome here." Lars quickly covered some general announcements about the new building and read out the currently scheduled events.

"My friends," he continued, "I do believe that you have listened to me blather on for quite long enough. I have invited our brother-in-arms, Baric to speak to us today. I will cede the floor to him." Lars turned from the podium and went to sit down on a nearby free seat, as he passed Baric they exchanged quiet greetings and a handshake.

Baric took his place at the podium, still dressed in his uniform, axe at his waist. None of this seemed out of place. Many of the congregants were soldiers of the hold and many, soldiers or not, were armed in some manner. The middle-aged soldier cleared his throat and ran one hand quickly over his grizzled face. "I am not much of a speaker, but I will try as Lars asked that I share my experience." He paused for a moment, "Excuse some lack of detail. I need to be sensitive to our thane's interests."

"We were operating in a very cold area. Biting wind to freeze the very blood of a man." His eyes looked beyond the crowd, seeing an arctic landscape, "The cold could not touch them. Our thane stood attired as always, impervious. The Redhand also carries his blessing and the freezing gale, couldn't even redden her cheeks!" He shook his head in wonder, "We who accompanied them were also strengthened. I've led men for years, but have never traveled farther, faster and had such energy at the end. And in those conditions that says much. You older campaigners will know well what I mean." Some of the more careworn and wrinkled faces were nodding along with his words.

"What was most extraordinary however was this. We were stationed in a location, told to stay there and ordered to keep the area secure. A possible hostile was left with us as a guard. Our thane and his Redhand went to conduct their business. Depending on that business we would potentially be facing a battle with no warning." He swallowed hard. "I do not know what or how, be it his voice or spirit, but as I waited at my watch, a moment came and I knew the battle was joined."

Baric's hand closed around his own omega symbol and he continued, "I believed. We struck down the sentry and prepared an ambush. Sure enough, mere moments later, foes poured in and we sprung our trap." He paused a moment, "If I had waited, or doubted, we would not have been ready in time. Some of our own may have died. As it is, all of our boys came home." The old soldier's face shone, "I do not know how, but he watches over those who serve him."

He looked out over the assembled crowd, "I have received blessings from the shrines of the Divines and felt their power. This power was no less, but more timely and present. His blessing does protect and empower. I do not claim to know how or why, but I do know this. He is no mere man."

* * *

The scene was a familiar one. Kratos, Lydia and Thomas all sat in a small meeting room on the upper floor of the thane's longhouse gathered around a table, going over the affairs of their city and region. Kratos sat, brow furrowed, a cup of wine before him, suffering through the administrative component of his duties while Thomas and Lydia examined the papers before them and organized the process.

To be fair, the vast majority of the actual minutiae never actually reached Kratos as Thomas was exceedingly competent in his role as steward. Despite his antipathy however Kratos stayed informed and was involved with policy and decision making.

Thomas ticked down to the next item on his list, "Coming to military matters, my thane, we now have nearly a full thousand men standing under arms. We make up a fair portion of the hold's professional military force." Thomas looked at another sheaf of papers, "This of course poses some significant issues for Havverfjord given the speed of growth. Without the stipend from the jarl and the broader hold, we would not be able to sustain our current state, which is concerning." Thomas continued, "With the soldiers comes the other emigrants to the area and the broader population boom. Your earlier city planning efforts have guided this and averted disaster" He dipped his head respectfully in Kratos' direction, "but the infrastructure is woefully behind."

Kratos nodded, "We have more soldiers than needed to guard our region. Rotate units through labor and construction duties. Discipline through public service."

Thomas made a few notes and then looked up to continue, "As you will, thane. I will draft a schedule for Lydia to review."

Lydia spoke up at that point, "There is another matter, Kratos." She paused, mulling over how to continue. Kratos quirked a brow at her hesitation, turning to face her more fully. She continued, "Lars came to me and requested a change to his assignment, though he was very clear that he continued to serve you fully." She let out a breath, "He asked for a reduced schedule and to be focused on local matters so that he could focus on his…" She quickly checked her paper, "_community center_."

Kratos' brows rose in question, clearly noting her hesitation, which prompted Lydia to glance quickly at Thomas before speaking, "Candidly… a church, my thane."

Kratos' finger ceased tapping and for a few moments he may as well have been carved from granite. His voice was low, "What kind of church?"

Lydia winced, "Lars is attempting to avoid that issue for as long as possible, but… In truth it is a church to you. The god of war." Kratos was silent for a time and took a careful pull from his cup, replacing it slowly on the table.

His amber gaze returned to Lydia, "I see. What has he done with this church? What has he… taught?"

Lydia nodded, "I took the liberty of gathering some information. Quite a number of our soldiers, especially the more experienced veterans, have attended some or all of the events put on there. I interviewed several of them about the goings on." Lydia shrugged, "I know that this is something for which you have no desire, my thane. However, it could be worse. Lars' primary topics and 'tenets', if you will, to date have been around self-reliance, competency, loyalty, and, to a degree, martial ability."

Lydia glanced at one of her papers as she continued, "I personally was heartened when he praised all forms of competency and said that all ability should be respected, soldier, blacksmith, cook, all take skill." She looked up, "He also has been providing basic arms training to the civilians, saying that everyone should be able to defend themselves." She held up a hand as Kratos' eyes narrowed, "However, he has _not_ made any indication of setting up any sort of command structure or informal militia. He specifically directly any citizens interested in organizing to speak to Valdr and go through the command structure you have established."

Upon hearing that Kratos nodded slowly, "Very well." Silence fell in the chamber for a minute as Kratos brooded and Lydia examined his face, searching his inscrutable features.

Lydia broke the silence, "Kratos, is there any action that you wish to take regarding Lars and his organization?"

Kratos exhaled heavily, his nostrils flaring and then took a long drink, "No. We will do nothing." He looked over at Lydia once more, "I make no law regarding a man's belief. There is no malfeasance." He paused briefly before continuing, his voice begrudging, "His teachings to this point are acceptable." He finished the last of the wine and sat, one hand idly toying with the cup, "Keep me informed. We must know if that changes. I will not permit anyone to spout foolishness in my name. Or profit from others… faith."

Lydia nodded her understanding, "Certainly, my thane. That will not be a problem." She made a note as she continued, "Many, if not the majority of the soldiers have attended or regularly attend functions at Lars' community center. It will be simple enough to ask them about the meetings. They will not lie to me."

A slightly pained expression crossed her face, "My rank aside, a certain amount of their reverence for you appears to have rubbed off on me. They seem to view me as some sort of living saint or ranking clergy figure. That should help in shifting their principles should it become necessary. In addition, I will make an effort to attend their gatherings in person every so often." She gave Kratos a sidelong look, "I am certain they would welcome your attendance as well."

Lydia fought a smile at the flat look he gave her before rumbling, "I will not be attending." He set his empty cup on the table, "On to other matters. Spring is nigh. Ulfric will escalate this year. He must. If he does not he will lose momentum, followers, and credibility. He will likely sneak men and supplies into the hold to disrupt our own operations and support his main advance when it comes."

Kratos caught Lydia's eyes, "I am dispatching you to the eastern front with a force. You have full operational control. Keep the stormcloaks out of the hold." Kratos grimaced slightly, "Balgruuf still seeks to maintain his neutrality. Minimize or avoid casualties. On both sides." Kratos continued, "I go to do the same for the legion in the west."

Lydia nodded, "As you say, my thane. I will prepare the men. When shall I return?"

Kratos stood, "I will call for you."

A puzzled look crossed her face, "Call?"

She caught the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, "You will know." With that their meeting was adjourned. Given the hour Kratos retired to his room. Once there he closed his eyes and cast out his senses. As always he knew where Lydia was immediately, her essence burned brightly in his mind's eye. He could find her across realms of existence. Finding her across the breadth of the hold would pose no issue. There were others as well that were easy to pick out, Lars for instance, still doing something at the church.

Kratos had generally avoided the connection that mortals' belief in his divinity forged. It had been centuries since he had interacted closely with so many, even _any_ mortals. However it was becoming too clearly useful of a tool and Kratos was nothing if not pragmatic. He could, after all, not be in two places at once. That was not one of his gifts.

He was no fool. He had seen the changes that had been wrought amongst his soldiers. They were changed by his presence. Lydia more than most, though she didn't view him with the same type of reverence as the others. He did not know precisely how she thought of him, though she had on numerous occasions told him he was a good man and worthy of being followed.

Introspection had never been one of Kratos' great strengths, but it was something that he had tried to learn in his quest to master his rage, in his quest to scatter Faye's ashes, and in his quest to truly be a father to Atreus. His boy was grown now, but being with Lydia reminded him in a fashion of his journey with Atreus, of watching him grow, of his pride in seeing that growth. In truth, Lydia had become like a daughter to him. He could not help but think that Atreus would approve.

* * *

The early spring air still carried the teeth of winter's chill despite the bright sun and clear, cloudless sky. Lydia sat, concealed by new spring grasses, as she idly cleaned her nails with one of her many daggers. Her long mahogany hair was done up in a rather militant braid-hawk and for a moment she speculatively looked at the long tail end that came over her shoulder and considered chopping it off. It was getting too long. Perhaps once they returned to Havverfjord.

The bound and gagged stormcloak scout lying face down in the dirt next to her made an indistinct, indignant sound, which cut off in a grunt as she punched him in the side. Lydia stabbed her dagger into the turf next to his head, "Be quiet. If I wanted you dead, you would be." That said, she narrowed her eyes at the scowling man, "But I don't need you conscious. Be silent. Or I will take that rock and silence you."

With another bare mutter that scout settled back into silence and Lydia went back to watching the dry streambed she was hidden near. The old bank was a fairly sheer four foot drop to the dusty streambed and the old creek's clear course made it a natural road through this particular stretch of the wilderness. They were near Whiterun's border with Eastmarch in the foothills north of the White river. If the stormcloaks were trying to sneak in a party quickly on this side of the river, it was likely this would be their route.

These stormcloak advance parties would harass the hold and establish supply lines and forward operating positions to support the stormcloak movement and any eventual push by a main army. Ulfrich and the empire both were still putting off any major pitched battle. There was no way to unring that bell and both sides still shied away from that particular rubicon.

Sure enough once Lydia and her party had arrived in the area, only a few days passed before they captured this advance scout. The rest of his party would be approaching fairly soon unless Lydia missed her guess. Her troops were well hidden and stationed on both sides of the stream. It would be shooting fish in a barrel if it came down to it. However Lydia had her orders and would try to minimize _all_ casualties.

Soon the stormcloak column came into view, coming up over the rise. Lydia raised her brows momentarily in surprise. Forty men. This was a larger party than she had expected. Ulfric was getting more aggressive. She set herself into a crouch next to her prisoner and waited for the approaching stormcloaks to enter the ambush zone, then she made herself known. Lydia grabbed the bound scout by the neck of his cuirass and his belt and chucked him into the path.

The stormcloaks stopped dead on seeing a man in their uniform chucked from the bush with a muffled yell landing 50 feet in front of them. The scout flopped onto the dirt, getting the wind harshly knocked out of him. Lydia jumped down a mere second later, landing next to him as he coughed and groaned around the gag. Lydia saw the stormcloak officer about to begin barking orders and let out a shrill whistle.

Archers with drawn bows rose up on either side of the surprised stormcloaks, the raised embankment and slope on the northern face giving them a particularly good field of view. The stormcloaks paused, clearly understanding that they were caught like rats in a trap.

Lydia's voice cut across the tense scene, "What is your business in Whiterun, so many and so armed?" He placed a booted foot on the scout's back, leaning nonchalantly against him, provoking another round of frustrated, garbled noises.

The stormcloak officer stepped forward, "You know I can't answer that. Though you know the answer all the same."

Lydia and the man nodded to each other, career soldiers who understood the situation. "True. I need you and yours to turn around and leave our hold."

Her counterpart shook his head, "I can't do that either."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at the man and gestured to the situation, "You can't hope to win this. Would you waste their lives so cheaply?" Lydia could clearly see the pained expression on the man's face, understanding the plight of one caught between strict orders and the reality of the situation. She did not want this slaughter either. Nords killing nords benefited no one but the Thalmor aside from the fact that Jarl Balgruuf still sought to avoid exactly this.

Lydia continued, "I propose a compromise."

The officer's eyes stopped assessing the situation and snapped back to her, "What do you have in mind?"

"Pick your best warrior. We will fight. Losing party packs up and returns. Beaten but honor intact."

After a moment's consideration and seeing the grim looks on his soldiers' faces he called back, "You have a deal."

Lydia clapped her hands loudly, "Good! Though the rest of your men will stay there under my boys' watchful eyes while this fight occurs." She rolled one of her shoulders and closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Turning her gaze internally for a moment she instantly felt the blaze of Kratos strength and a flare of approbation.

A wicked smile spread across her face, "Since you are here, trespassing on our lands, that makes you the challenger." She threw her arms wide, "That gives me, the challenged, the choice of weapons."

The officer's eyes narrowed, sensing some deceit or trap in her words, "And what do you choose then?"

Lydia raised her hands, "Fists." She let out a chuckle at the man's surprised expression, "Now. Pick your champion."

The officer quickly returned to his men, understandably he was deeply disturbed by the current situation. They were well and truly caught. If they attempted to break out and run they would lose easily half or more of their force to withering arrow fire before ever actually engaging the enemy.

His eyes narrowed as he thought, that was not to mention that these soldiers appeared to be part of the group that he had been warned about as part of his briefing. Whiterun's elite soldiers. Their uniforms, if one could call them that, were often irregular, their choice of weapons varied, but they all wore that red stripe down their face, over one eye. He considered his troops for a minute before beckoning over a very large man, "Harald, unless I am mistaken you are the best among us with your fists?"

The large man nodded grimly, "I believe that is true, sir."

"Good. Then you will be our champion for this fight." he smiled tightly, "Beat her into the ground."

The man passed off his warhammer to one of his compatriots and saluted, "Aye sir!"

"Harald. Keep your eyes open." The officer gestured to the archers, "They have us dead to rights. It's possible they won't leave this to chance." He grimaced, "Perhaps spiked gauntlets, hidden edges, poison… I don't know."

Harald's brows knit as he looked over the officer's shoulder. He pointed, "Sir, I don't think we'll have to worry about _those_ at least." The officer turned quickly.

Another one of the Whiterun soldiers had stepped out onto the path next to the woman who had issued the challenge. She quickly passed off her sword and shield, which were then followed, much to the stormcloak's surprise by her gauntlets and plate armor. She stood staring back at the stormcloaks, wearing no armor, just simple pants and a sleeveless shirt, leaving her arms bare. Her arms were not large, but looked as if they could have been chiseled from stone, every muscle stood out in perfect definition.

The officer shrugged, surprised once more, "Fair enough. Harald, lose your gauntlets and cuirass." The stormcloak champion quickly removed them and then both he and the officer approached the woman and her second. They exchanged careful nods as they neared. "So. What are the rules?"

The woman gave Harald a measuring look for a moment before facing the officer, "Simple. You call start. We fight. One of us wins. No killing."

"Fair enough. Then we will withdraw. I will confirm you are both prepared and call the signal to begin." All parties nodded their assent and the seconds withdrew leaving the two champions facing each other. It was an odd pairing especially for a fist fight. She was of average height for a nord, but certainly looked strong. Harald however was a beast of a man, not abnormally tall but a large and strong man. The weight advantage he held was laughably large. All of this only served to fuel the officer's trepidation as he observed the scene.

"Harald, ready?"

"Aye, sir!" He raised his enormous fists.

"Miss, are you ready?"

Her eyes flicked to him before locking back on to the man before her, a cutting grin spreading across her face, "I am ready."

"Fight!"

The stormcloak attacked without hesitation and with a speed that was surprising for a man of his size. He sent a sledgehammer of a right hook towards Lydia's face. The officer, despite his reservations, almost felt bad about the entire situation. He respected women as warriors and had met many skilled examples, but this sort of contest was clearly unfair.

The blow however never landed. Lydia darted forward under the hook getting inside his reach. Quick as a flash she pivoted, twisting her body and throwing her full weight into what was nearly an uppercut. She struck him right in the solar plexus. The stormcloaks were not sure if they heard the blow itself, or just the wind being blasted from their champions lungs. There was such force behind the blow that Harald's feet left the ground momentarily and he skidded a foot back on the loose path.

He bent double as he retched, his body convulsively dry heaving. Lydia however had not paused, she leapt into the air bringing her left fist crashing down on Harald's face as he still tried to track her despite his body's betrayal. The stormcloaks collectively winced and some cried out as Harald was dropped to his hands and knees, stunned and spitting blood.

Lydia's kick slammed into his side with a frightening thud, provoking another grimace from the onlookers, and sending him onto his back. Lydia was there instantly, crouched over him. With her left she pulled him up a bit of ground and administered a punishing right, as his hands feebly tried to fend her off, sending a splatter of blood into the dust. Twice more her right hand rose and fell in brutal blows, each sound drawing flinches from the watching stormcloaks.

Lydia eyed the insensate man for a moment before dragging him back to the stormcloaks by his bloody shirt. The stormcloak officer watched, mouth agape as she approached. She spoke and her voice held no heat, "He should recover. Take him home." Her eyes and voice grew hard and cold, "And stay out of our hold." The officer heard her, but for some reason all he could focus on was the blood dripping off her red right hand.

* * *

**AN:** Another chapter in the books! Thank you to everyone for your comments, I really appreciate hearing your feedback and any specific thoughts you have on the story. Let me know what you like or don't like. Even though I am doing this just for fun, I would like to get better at writing!

Also to date no one has mentioned (either in a review or a message) the Parks and Rec easter egg in chapter 6. I'm not sure if this is because no one has commented on it or if people just haven't noticed.

Thanks again everyone for reading and reviewing - you are the folks that keep the story going!


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